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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649891">Dreamland III</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/pseuds/admiralty'>admiralty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bodyswap, Episode: s06e04-05 Dreamland, F/M, Gender Roles, Humor, Mutual Pining, RST, Sex, UST</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:23:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/pseuds/admiralty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after their first kiss at the New Year, Mulder and Scully find themselves out at Area 51 once again. Only this time, their swap is a little more personal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder &amp; Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>X-Files Case File Fanfic Exchange (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyTheInevitable/gifts">OnlyTheInevitable</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: A case where Mulder and Scully end up switching bodies (think Dreamland, but whatever type of case situation you want)!</p><p>I am so excited to finally have you for an exchange, Nicole! Our mutual love of Dreamland precluded the possibility of my doing anything else with this prompt. I had so much fun crafting this story for you and I really hope you love it. xo</p><p>Thanks to Mon, Kasey, Jaime, Lin, Fiona &amp; Laia for the beta.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Prologue </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Once upon a time, there was a guy with the improbable name of Fox Mulder.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was also a woman - his FBI partner, whom he was clearly in love with - named Dana Scully.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They started out happily enough, as these things go. He had a job he found invigorating, and she had… well, she had the same thing. From the outside, it seemed like they both pretty much led normal lives. But year after year, it became increasingly clear that wasn’t exactly the case. They could be doing other things: hobbies, vacations. Each other, even. But they never did.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What a waste, if you ask me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fox Mulder pissed away his chance at that life. And I’m not saying this to be judgmental or cruel; I’m saying it because I know. I know, because I used to be the guy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> My name is Morris Fletcher, and even I couldn’t get Fox Mulder out of his slump. Pretty pathetic, actually. Maybe you’re wondering how I remember any of this? Maybe you’re wondering why I’m even here? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, it’s a long story. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CHAPTER ONE </b>
</p><p> </p><p>HIGHWAY 375</p><p>GROOM LAKE, NEVADA</p><p>SUNDAY MARCH 12, 2000</p><p>5:56 PM</p><p> </p><p>The rental sedan cruised westward along the highway, its engine’s roar the only sound cutting through the silence of the desert evening. Dust billowed behind it as it sped towards its destination, which was nowhere in sight at the moment.</p><p>Inside, Fox Mulder squinted, adjusting his visor in an attempt to keep the slowly setting sun from burning his retinas. It was getting close to six ’o clock, and according to his source, he only had until six-thirty to get to the facility. Scully snoozed next to him in the passenger seat, and he took advantage of the straightaway to steal glances at her sleeping face, every once in a while the thud of the rumble strips jarring his attention back to the road. </p><p>His attention, which he’d expected to be on flying saucers and top-secret test flights, had instead been focusing more and more on that face. His partner’s face, specifically her lips: the ones he’d finally kissed at the New Year just a few weeks ago. Things had been pleasant between them since; downright flirty even, sometimes to the point where he felt like he was in high school again. And much like high school - in his experience, anyway - neither of them had made another move. If this were a courtship ritual, it was slower than that of a pair of snails. </p><p>The world hadn’t ended, however, and she’d conceded that. Something new had begun, and he hoped a significant change would come soon. He figured the ball was in her court now, and as much as he hated playing by the rules, when the love of his life was at stake, he was prepared to wait this out as long as he absolutely had to. </p><p>Scully stirred and he jerked his gaze away, looking straight out the windshield instead, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. She yawned and out of the corner of his eye he could see her adjusting her clothing, eyeing him surreptitiously as she gently swiped at the sides of her mouth. </p><p>“Are we almost there?” she asked, pulling the mirror on her visor down to check her face, presumably for sleep indentations. He wished she didn’t behave this way around him; if only she knew how perfect he thought she was in every single way.</p><p>“Should only be a few more minutes,” he answered. “You know, you slept on the plane, too. You feeling alright?”</p><p>“I’m fine, Mulder,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, I should have offered to drive.”</p><p>“No, it’s okay,” he said quickly. He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t grateful for her presence, especially since she’d come along begrudgingly anyway. “You get that beauty sleep, Scully.”</p><p>She gave him a tight grin, and he hoped that quip had come out right. Maybe he should have said she didn’t need beauty sleep? Maybe he should have said she was beautiful no matter how much sleep she got?</p><p>
  <em> Maybe he should just shut the fuck up. </em>
</p><p>“So remind me, Mulder… why are we doing this again?” she asked, and he was glad for the reprieve of a change in subject. She didn’t sound annoyed, just curious. </p><p>“The first aerial photos of Area 51 were taken from a Russian satellite a few days ago,” he said, practically gleeful. “I was contacted by this source shortly afterwards. He claims to have some information we would find, and I quote, ‘highly interesting.’”</p><p>“And this is… the same source as last year?” she asked.</p><p>Mulder shrugged. “I’m not sure, actually,” he admitted. </p><p>“How do you know this isn’t a huge mistake?” she asked. “We’re on thin ice as it is. The X-Files are, I should say.”</p><p>She was right. Skinner had not-so-subtly warned them that Kersh was watching their every move, looking for any excuse to shut them down. It felt like the end was nigh no matter what they did, and rather than admit this to Scully he’d preferred to follow her lead and stay out of trouble. But this was Dreamland. Area 51. The opportunity to have access after all these years was too good to pass up, and perhaps worth the risk. </p><p>“It’s different this time, Scully,” he explained. “No sneaking around. With the names and credentials he gave us, we should be able to get through the gates this time, as long as we arrive by six-thirty.”</p><p>“Assuming we aren’t stopped first by a bunch of men in black with guns?” she asked. Their last trip to Groom Lake had been a bust before it even began.</p><p>“He said he’d make sure that wouldn’t happen,” he insisted. “All we can do is try, I guess. Worst case scenario, we don’t get through.”</p><p>“No, Mulder,” she corrected him, “we could get arrested. We could be detained. We could lose our jobs or at the very least, get suspended. I can think of a lot of worst case scenarios, including the one where we both end up getting shot for trespassing.”</p><p>He grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Scully? Not to mention that enthusiastic optimism I’m so used to.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, this had better be worth it. I’m already exhausted and the thought of doing a red-eye tonight to get back in time for work tomorrow…”</p><p>Mulder sighed. He felt bad for dragging her along, but he’d had little choice in the timeframe his source had specified. A Sunday evening rendezvous on the other side of the country when they were supposed to be back at the office the next morning was bound to make anyone grumpy.</p><p>“I owe you one, Scully,” he said. </p><p>“You don’t owe me anything, Mulder,” she replied. “Just promise me when this is over, no more talk of UFOs until I get a bath and a decent night’s sleep.”</p><p>“Deal,” he grinned. “I know how much you like ‘normal.’” </p><p>He’d been wondering for a while now if Scully was only still with him out of obligation. Perhaps she was tired of this life. Perhaps she wanted something different. </p><p>
  <em> Don’t you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car, settle down and live something approaching a normal life? </em>
</p><p>“This is normal, Mulder, for us, anyway,” she smiled. She briefly caught his eye then turned to look out the window, adept as ever at letting a charged moment slip through their grasp. He was glad she’d said as much, but he wondered if she truly meant it. </p><p>Suddenly she noticed something up ahead, pointing. Mulder gripped the wheel with both hands and put on his game face, hoping beyond hope there wouldn’t be a replay of the last time. He noticed Scully glancing around them nervously as if she expected the same. But when he pulled up to the gate, presenting the fake names and credentials his source had provided, they were waved through without any problems whatsoever. They were flanked on either side by a security detail, but as Agent Fox Mulder drove onto the property of Area 51 with all but a welcome mat, he couldn’t help but throw a shit-eating grin at his partner.</p><p>“See? Easy as pie, Scully.”</p><p>“Only took us seven years,” she grumbled.</p><p><em> Seven years plus a lifetime</em>, he thought to himself. </p><p>As they drove, he followed signs that read <em> USAF </em> and <em> Nevada Test and Training Range</em>. Most of the buildings were unmarked and, although the sun was setting, he could see what appeared to be crafts of some kind inside them, mostly obscured in their hangars by shadow, their sharp edges illuminated dramatically by an orange hue. He looked with wonder, and could see Scully craning her neck to see as well.</p><p>“What do you think they are?” she asked, and Mulder quirked an eyebrow.</p><p>“Never mind,” she smirked knowingly.</p><p>They approached Hangar 19, the one at which his source had instructed him to wait, just as the sun dipped down below the buildings. Nameless sentinels with guns stopped them, and instructed them to park next to a gate about twenty yards from the entrance. They were then told to get out and walk to the hangar. </p><p>Scully stepped out of the passenger side cautiously, closing the door, catching Mulder’s eye across the roof of the car as he did the same. He straightened his jacket a bit, preparing to finally come face to face with his elusive source. The guards watched the duo closely as they entered the facility, and Mulder looked around for someone to meet them, but there was no one inside.</p><p>They stood there, dwarfed by enormous machinery on all sides, and while he wanted to believe they were welcome this time, he couldn’t help but take in the sight greedily, hungrily, as if it could be snatched away at any moment. There were no aircraft in this building, but he saw several unidentifiable machines.</p><p>They wandered around the dimly lit room, taking it all in. Every machine was silent and dark save for one a few feet away, which had several small blinking red lights on the front, like a colony of bats ready to receive them.</p><p>“Hey Scully, check this out,” he called, waving her over to the machine. It was slightly taller than he was, shaped a bit like a large teapot. As he got closer he noticed a thrumming blue light swishing at the top. It appeared to be in standby mode.</p><p>“What do you think it does?” she asked.</p><p>“No idea,” he replied. “But it looks a lot like Stewie Griffin’s time machine, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Showing no sign of picking up on his reference, she wandered around the device, studying it. “Mulder, there are radiation warnings printed on this thing,” she said with slight alarm. “We aren’t wearing protective gear.”</p><p>
  <em> Slam! </em>
</p><p>The door they’d entered through was suddenly slammed shut. The device then illuminated completely, aquamarine lights blinking along the sides, chasing each other up the sides of the machine like some kind of dubious carnival attraction. There was a loud humming sound as if it were charging a sort of energy. Mulder instinctively felt around for Scully, finding her wrist, pulling her close to him. </p><p>The lights picked up speed as the humming grew louder, and while he wasn’t completely blind to the possibility that they could be in serious trouble, he found himself almost hypnotized by the unusual apparatus. Holding her tightly by the wrist he took a step closer, and she didn’t stop him. He glanced over at her; she seemed just as mesmerized. </p><p>“Mulder…?” she breathed, eyes wide.</p><p>The only thing he could see in the darkness was the blue light illuminating the angles of her face as she stared up at the machine, and the last thing he remembered was the arc of her nose, the gentle curve of her jawline, before the room exploded with a bright white light and they were both propelled backwards.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He groaned uneasily as he came to, not quite registering what had happened. The lights had gone off the machine, plunging the room into total blackness. Mulder couldn’t see a thing. He was extremely disoriented and felt a lump in his throat as he fumbled around in the dark. </p><p>The first thing he noticed was that his hand was empty: it no longer held onto his partner’s wrist. His instinct was to call for her but his head pounded and he was so dizzy he needed to find his footing, to gain purchase. Mercifully, the light at the top of the machine clicked on, and his immediate surrounding area was bathed in an eerie blue light once again. </p><p>He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him, but he looked down at his empty hand, noticing something alarming. </p><p>It did not look like his hand.</p><p>At first he thought it was perhaps a trick of the light. It was hard to see much of anything. But when he looked again he knew, with visceral immediacy like a punch in the gut: these were most definitely not his own hands. They were nicely manicured, the skin soft-looking and delicate. Feminine. The phrase <em> knew it like the back of my hand </em>bounced around his mind and suddenly he realized why: these were familiar hands, all right, but not because he knew his own so intimately. </p><p>It was because he knew Scully’s.</p><p>
  <em> What the fuck was happening?  </em>
</p><p>This precise thought had occurred to him hundreds of times during his tenure on the X-Files but this time it was more panic than confusion. He touched his face and instead of a five ’o clock shadow he felt a smoothness he wasn’t expecting. His hair was longer, softer. And while Mulder was quicker to trust his gut than most, the reality of his situation hit him in waves, comprehension drowning him in slow-motion:</p><p>
  <em> I’m not me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m someone else. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m Scully.  </em>
</p><p>Not in mind, for his thoughts still belonged to him, but in body: which he slowly allowed himself to sense, to feel. He couldn’t see any details: any evidence of the contours of a feminine body were hidden beneath his clothes, which he could now ascertain were <em> her </em> clothes. A faint scent of something floral, maybe lavender, wafted around his head. Tiny knees and slim legs peeked out beneath his skirt. </p><p>His next thought hit him instantly, as if the slow-motion had given way to freeze-frame. </p><p>
  <em> Where is Scully? </em>
</p><p>The hangar was suddenly filled with the sounds of gunfire, their welcome wagon turning not-so-welcoming. He ducked down, concentrating on one immediate concern:<em> find her. Find her now. </em></p><p><em> “Scullaaay!!!” </em>he yelled, but the cry came out in her voice, and he clapped his hand over his mouth so as to not draw any fire towards her. Him. Himself as her. Whatever. Then, as if summoned by his very thoughts, a hand grabbed his own. A male hand, large and very much in charge. At first he worried one of the men with guns had seized him but what he heard next was the most jarring thing of all.</p><p>“Mulder, it’s me!” </p><p>The urgency was Scully’s, but the voice was not. It was a male voice. It was a familiar voice. </p><p>It was his own voice.</p><p>Despite the gravelly timbre and deep pitch, he sensed that innate feeling of trust he felt when she was nearby: the Scully aura. Trusting his intuition, he gripped her hand and followed her, his own little legs struggling to keep up, tripping on ridiculous high heels that already hurt his feet.</p><p>“Scully…? What’s happening…?” he mustered, and as he expected this time, the words left his mouth in her voice.</p><p>“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she replied in his low pitch. “But we have to get out of here.”</p><p>Her command was unnecessary as sounds of gunfire still rang through the hangar. He could hear, but could not see, the men firing at them. It didn’t matter; all he knew was that they needed to get out of there, and fast. He could see the exit fifty feet away. Forty, thirty, twenty… he was briefly reminded of a large white dome, the hum of a thousand bees and the smell of corn crops.</p><p>The desert chill slapped him in the face as they broke free of the facility. They weren’t at the entrance anymore; he wasn’t sure exactly where they were, but everything was in better focus than usual. He could clearly make out the words on the signs as they rushed back to where he thought their car was - <em> NO TRESPASSING, USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED </em>- and thought perhaps maybe there was a reason Scully had always been a better shot.</p><p>Finally they were racing across dirt, and what had been a nearly-impossible task of running in Scully’s heels was now an actually-impossible task. He stopped, panting a bit, more out of habit than actual necessity - <em> how was Scully in such good shape? </em>- and bent down to remove them.</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” she huffed, out of breath, and her typical sarcastic tone felt even more caustic coming out in his own gruff baritone.</p><p>“I’m not used to these,” he snapped defensively, clutching the pair of heels, and they continued running until they made it to  their car.</p><p>By the time they reached it, he noticed the gunfire had ceased, but he was by no means convinced they were in the clear. Scully stopped to look back at the hangar, hand on the door handle, paisley tie fluttering in the breeze. For the first time he got a good look at her- or rather, himself.</p><p>As she spun to look at their surroundings, his thoughts were inconveniently critical: <em> why does my hair look like that from the back? Are all my ties that ugly? </em> and <em> I really need to find some more constrictive underwear. </em> It was the strangest sensation to be looking at, essentially, a clone of oneself in the flesh. </p><p>Scully, muscle memory evidently prevailing, clambered into her usual spot in the passenger seat, her long legs awkwardly crushed against the glove box. Mulder climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, tossing the pair of shoes into the back.</p><p>He stretched his foot out but couldn’t reach the accelerator, inwardly cursing all of the times he’d teased Scully for her “little legs.” In a panic, he shifted the seat uncomfortably close to the steering wheel, and gripped it tightly. He could barely see over the wheel.</p><p>They were parked directly in front of a chain link fence, and he wasn’t sure if escape was even possible, but with very few options left at this point, he threw the car into reverse and jammed his shoeless foot against the pedal, hard. He could feel the vibrations up his leg as the car jerked backwards for a few seconds, then he shifted into drive and tore ahead, breaking through the gate easily and hurtling off into the dark desert night.</p><p>Mulder noticed puffs of sand exploding, surrounding them like tiny geysers, evidence that their pursuers were back and did not intend to let them escape. Too terrified to speak, he pressed his foot all the way to the floor. In spite of the danger, as he heard telltale pings against the bumper, he was grateful he’d checked the box for rental insurance back at Lariat.  </p><p>After several minutes, the sounds of gunfire faded. Either the discounted loyalty upgrade sedan he’d chosen had outrun their pursuers, or they’d simply decided they weren’t worth the trouble.</p><p>Both he and Scully stared straight ahead, saying nothing. Neither seemed to know how to begin. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she was sitting stock still, eyes wide. Finally, ever the rationalist, she spoke.</p><p>“Something really weird happened out there, Mulder.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>He felt like an idiot; in seven years of unexplained phenomena, this might be the absolute weirdest, and it was ridiculous that neither of them had anything to offer each other besides <em> well, that was weird </em>. Her sentiment hung in the air, however, and along with it his presumption that she was not nearly as calm as she appeared to be. </p><p>“It’s okay, Scully,” he lied. “It’s gonna be okay.”</p><p>It was the wrong thing to say.</p><p>Predictably, she turned to face him, absolutely enraged. He couldn’t even process what was happening, much less his own emotional response to any of it, but he could most definitely process hers. </p><p>“<em>Mulder!</em>” she said, now very panicked. She waved her hands, which were his hands, in his face. “I'm you, and you're me! We are very much not okay!” </p><p>He didn’t have to look at her to tell how upset she was, and he knew her eyes were fiery even in a shade that was not typically their own. She sat back into her seat and closed her eyes, putting her hands against her head. “This is not happening, I’m dreaming. Obviously this is a dream.”</p><p>Mulder sighed; denial was typically her first response but how could she deny a situation like this? This had happened, regardless of the mechanics, the science of it, whatever that was. She would have to accept it before they could do anything about it.</p><p>“Unless I’m sharing your dream, Scully, which I don’t think even we have the bad luck to relive, this is very much happening.”</p><p>She didn’t seem to be listening to him, rather muttering to herself. “This is both physically and biologically impossible.”</p><p>“And yet, here we are!” he interjected, raising his voice for the first time. Scully put her head between her legs, mumbling <em> ohmygodohmygodohmygod </em> into what he realized was his own crotch.</p><p>“That machine,” he said, doing his best to come up with something, some kind of explanation that could satisfy her. At least to the point where she could actually engage him in a coherent conversation. “The one with the radiation signs, remember? We were standing in front of it when this happened.”</p><p>She looked up, pinning him with a flabbergasted stare the likes of which he hadn’t seen since their early days together. “Mulder, are you suggesting that there’s a body-swapping machine just hanging out in the middle of a random hangar in Area 51? And we just happened to walk by as it just happened to activate?”</p><p>“If you’ve got a better theory, Scully, I’m all ears,” he replied.</p><p>“What could the purpose of such a machine possibly be?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he fumbled. “Some kind of torture tactic? Maybe a way to make people appear crazy so they can’t reveal any of the government’s secrets?” He looked back at the road. “Sure seems to be working on you,” he muttered under his breath.</p><p>Thankfully, either she didn’t hear him or deemed the task of chastising him for his editorial commentary low on her priority list.</p><p>“We need to go back there, it’s the only thing I can think to do,” she said, her reasonable tone finally somewhat identifiable in his own timbre. “Maybe they can reverse it.”</p><p>“Scully, in case you didn’t notice, an entire squadron just chased us off the base,” he pointed out. “We can’t go back there, not right now, anyway.”</p><p>Scully glared at him through his own eyes. He thought he’d probably never looked so stern. Sitting back into her seat once again, she crossed her arms, and her expression evolved into one that he finally recognized in his own features as undoubtedly Scullylike. </p><p>“What was that thing you said earlier, Mulder? About worst case scenarios?” </p><p>He groaned, and she sighed heavily; the same sigh of frustration he’d heard from his own lips on plenty of occasions. The exact same. It was unsettling.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, although he certainly hadn’t planned or anticipated anything like this. For the first time, his mind flashed through a multitude of possibilities and problems that might come along with this new arrangement, regardless of how exactly it had occurred.</p><p>“So… what do we do?” she asked dumbly, more to the universe than to him. She sounded as impotent and sluggish as he felt.</p><p>As if her deflation had the opposite effect on him, he was suddenly so freaked out he felt his hands, <em> Scully's hands</em>, physically shaking. He couldn’t get a proper grip on the steering wheel, they were sweating so much.</p><p>He saw a little dive bar off the side of the road, pulled over to park in the tiny parking lot, and shut the car off. </p><p>“First things first: we both need a drink,” he declared.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>LITTLE ALE’ E’ INN RESTAURANT &amp; BAR</p><p>RACHEL, NEVADA</p><p>SUNDAY, 6:34 PM</p><p> </p><p>It had always been easier for Scully to simply deny what she knew to be impossible, even when the impossible stared her right in the face. She’d done so for years, much to her partner’s frustration and dissatisfaction. </p><p>But this was different. She wasn’t dreaming, she wasn’t hallucinating. This was really happening, and she had to deal with it. Now.</p><p>She had thought about Mulder’s body in many ways over the years; not all of them entirely appropriate. Usually it was in some sort of decidedly un-sexy scenario during which her doctor brain was forced to take over: getting his temperature down to combat an alien virus, tending to him after reluctantly shooting him in the shoulder. Standing a breath away from him while completely naked in a decontamination shower.</p><p>Her brain was in the midst of a battle; one that pitted her most deeply held beliefs against the reality that, regardless of how she felt or behaved, she was now, abruptly and incontrovertibly, Agent Fox Mulder to the rest of the world. She couldn’t square this newfound knowledge, as much as she knew she needed to if they were ever going to solve this problem.</p><p>In any case, that reality began to hit her in a series of events, one after another, as soon as she and Mulder entered the little dive bar.</p><p>First, as they walked inside, a dozen female eyes landed on her appreciatively. <em> Very </em> appreciatively. It wasn’t as if female eyes hadn’t landed on Scully appreciatively before, but this felt different. She wondered if Mulder had any concept of the way he was perceived by women, of the effect his mere presence could have on them. Of his own oozing sexuality.</p><p>Secondly, when she sat down at the bar, the bartender (who was a dead-ringer for Courtney Love) gave her a look using what she could only describe as bedroom eyes. </p><p>“Can I get you somethin’, hon?” she asked, leaning forward to treat Scully- or, rather, ‘Mulder’- with a display of ample cleavage. Before she could consider what Mulder might even order, he spoke up next to her. </p><p>“Two beers, please, whatever you have on tap,” came her own voice. It was wild.</p><p>“Sure thing,” the bartender replied, looking at ‘Mulder’ somewhat abashedly, and was back quickly with two frosty glasses. Scully reached out to take one with her large man-sized hand and spilled, bringing the glass to her lips in an unpracticed way, like her nephew when he was first learning to use a sippy cup. She bumped the glass into her nose, miscalculating, spilling further. The bartender looked slightly perturbed, then turned around to find a more receptive, less seemingly hapless target.</p><p>“Easy, Scully,” Mulder whispered next to her, placing his tiny hand on hers. “That’s my Armani.” He must have mistaken her lack of coordination for nerves, which, while a fair assumption, was incorrect: she simply wasn’t used to his lanky limbs.</p><p>“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she replied. It was her standard go-to reply, and while she knew it always sounded ridiculous, it felt especially rich coming out in Mulder’s own voice. They were not fine, and there was no indication they ever would be.</p><p>“You’re not fine, Scully,” he said. “You’re panicking.” He studied her face - his face - curiously. “When I imagined my own panic face, you should know it looked nothing like this.”</p><p>She laughed nervously, probably because everything was so crazy at the moment she had little choice. It was clear he was attempting to lighten the mood, trying to put her at ease, when she knew he must be as unnerved as she was.</p><p>Mulder patted his breast pockets, immediately turning a shade of red she’d never seen on him before as he realized he was patting an actual pair of breasts. Without another word he leaned over and reached into Scully’s jacket pocket, pulling out a small bag of sunflower seeds.</p><p>She watched him throw a couple into his mouth, <em> her </em> mouth, and gnaw aimlessly. For the first time she got a really good look at her own face staring back at her. She noticed her own hair wasn’t really red, at least not the red she was used to: it had an odd greenish hue to it. Not unpleasant, just… different. It looked almost brown, rather than what she was used to seeing in the mirror. It was interesting seeing the world the way Mulder did. </p><p>“We need to figure this out, Mulder,” she said finally, her previously established panic shifting into problem-solving mode. “How exactly did this happen?”</p><p>Mulder sighed. “I don’t think you’re going to like my theory.”</p><p>“I don’t, either.”</p><p>He looked at her and raised a Scully eyebrow. “UFO technology?” he suggested hopefully.</p><p>“Mulder.” Her skeptical appraisal of his theory sounded odd in Mulder’s voice, even to her own ears. It was a knee-jerk reaction to what she had expected him to say. But honestly, he was probably right. She didn’t have a better explanation. And she was well aware the government had developed some incredible tech over the years. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility and even she had to admit as much. </p><p>Admitting it to what was essentially her own reflection, however, was another endeavor entirely.</p><p>“You can’t even admit I’m right when you’re me,” he grinned, and the absurdity of their situation truly was funny, if only for a moment. She looked away, embarrassed and covering a half-smile. He raised his dainty hands in resignation and smiled silently, this familiar exchange a small comfort to her in the face of all this weirdness. </p><p>“You know I’m right,” he muttered, taking a gulp of his beer. “You may as well admit it, Spooky.”</p><p>She sighed in acceptance. “You probably are right, although I can’t explain any of it.” It didn’t really make any sense, but Scully was used to feeling this way while working on the X-Files. There was probably tech inside those walls she’d never dreamed of.</p><p>“Should we attempt to contact your source?” she suggested. “Maybe he can help us.”</p><p>Mulder shook his head, red hair bobbing slightly. “I can’t,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I have no way to contact him. He calls me.” </p><p>He looked thoughtful, and while the wheels spun in his head she studied him closely. Her thoughts turned indiscriminately to<em> I really need a haircut </em> and <em> why does my nose crinkle like that when I’m thinking hard </em> and <em> Jesus Christ I have to pee </em>.</p><p>“I have to use the restroom,” she said. She couldn’t hold it forever and if she had to do this, at least she could do it in a bathroom and not on the side of a cold desert highway.</p><p>Mulder nodded. “Put that marksmanship to good use, Scully,” he winked, and she was amazed at how even in so grim a situation his sense of humor never faltered.</p><p>A shockwave passed through her new body as she stood up; the prospect of handling Mulder’s ‘equipment’ proved itself to be both intimidating and titillating. She walked to the bathroom, female eyes following her predictably as she went, and it was a strange vantage point: she felt a mile taller, even though it was only maybe a foot. She was reminded of walking on her brother’s stilts in the backyard as a kid.</p><p>She approached the men’s restroom, praying there were no other occupants. Luck was on her side, and the bathroom was empty. As she entered, she felt a clunk against her temple and realized she’d bumped into a dangling lightbulb that she would never have even noticed, let alone made contact with, in her own body. Mulder’s height was definitely the weirdest thing about this situation.</p><p>At least, until now.</p><p>There were two stalls and a couple of urinals, and just in case someone walked in, she decided to give herself some privacy, entering a stall and locking the door behind her. She fumbled with Mulder’s zipper, pulling it down carefully. She wasn’t used to having something between her legs and it was such a strange sensation she didn’t even know how to describe it to herself. It really was like having an extra appendage; a third leg, and from the feel of it dangling against the inside of her thigh, that was not far from an accurate description.</p><p>She pulled down his underwear: <em> boxers </em>, she noted, enjoying the odd intimacy of having that information, and suddenly her hand was around his penis and she was pulling it out, angling it towards the toilet bowl.</p><p>She tried her best to avert her eyes, valiantly preserving as much of her partner’s dignity as possible for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, but the feel of him in her hand was really all the information she needed. He was hefty, even flaccid, and she tried not to let her mind wander to a place she knew it shouldn’t. Especially here and now with her hand wrapped around his dick.</p><p>She finished up and tucked herself back into her pants, zipping up the fly, but when she turned to go, something felt off. She oddly felt more uncomfortable now than she was before. For some reason, however, she knew instinctively what to do: reaching back into her boxers, she adjusted herself to the left side, nodding, the world inexplicably shifting back into balance.</p><p>“Everything come out okay?” Mulder asked with a grin as she sat back down. He seemed to be enjoying the idea of her having to handle his business and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.</p><p>“Jesus, Mulder,” she muttered self-consciously.</p><p>“Sorry,” he laughed. “We have to find the humor somewhere, don’t we?”</p><p>He was right, but on the long list of things she didn’t want to think about, Mulder left alone inside her own body was at the top. Meanwhile, he had already finished his first beer and was onto his second. </p><p>“Slow down, will you?” she said. “You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache. And a hangover.”</p><p>He grimaced, perhaps only now realizing he needed to be a bit more careful with his new body. “Noted.” </p><p>"Besides, we have a flight to catch in…” she looked at Mulder’s watch on her wrist… “less than two hours.”</p><p>He nodded, agreeing, and set down his glass.</p><p>“So... what’s the plan, Mulder?” she continued. </p><p>He looked up at her, the inevitability sinking in. “We’re stuck like this until my source calls, I guess.”</p><p>She sighed heavily, closing her eyes. “God.” </p><p>“I have a bunch of sick days stored up. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to huddle in my apartment and not leave it until then,” he declared.</p><p>Scully shook her head. “We can’t do that, Mulder.” </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because…” she sputtered, “we have lives to live, things to do. People will be suspicious. There’s a stack of files on your desk higher than it’s been in years. Besides, Kersh is after us with a vengeance. If we’re both out sick for God knows how long, what will that mean for the X-Files?”</p><p>He nodded, knowing she was right. “So… I guess I’m you for a while.”</p><p>She nodded in response. “And I’m you.”</p><p>He grinned. “Does this mean I get to be the one who rolls my eyes and tells you you’re crazy?”</p><p>She smiled, for the first time since this began. “I suppose I’ll allow it. Just this once.”</p><p>He returned her smile and raised his glass, and while neither of them knew how they would possibly get out of this, or if they ever would, she did know, as she always did, they were at least in it together. She raised her own tumbler and clinked his, taking a sip. This time, she didn’t spill.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The flight home was uneventful, save for an awkward pat-down by an overzealous TSA agent. Scully tried not to notice the feeling of hands touching this new, different body of hers, but she was rather forced to.</p><p>Deputy Director Kersh had called, on a weekend, no less, to reprimand them for being late on turning in some case reports Mulder had assured her weren’t expected until the following day. Which, she was now realizing, had obviously been a ploy to get her to tag along with him to Nevada in the first place. After answering his phone in her voice, which was bad enough considering what Kersh must’ve surmised, he then quickly handed the phone to her to bear the brunt of their boss’s verbal lashing, which included threats against the X-Files and even threats of termination. She couldn’t help but notice Kersh was far more brusque with Mulder than he’d ever been with her.</p><p>She caught as many hours of sleep on the plane as she was able, and by the time they were back in D.C. it was nearly four in the morning. As they headed towards the cab pick-up area, Scully was eager to get home and hopefully get in a couple of hours of sleep before work, but before she could get too excited about it, she heard a voice from behind her.</p><p>“Agent Mulder!”</p><p>She and Mulder both whipped around to see Jimmy from the accounting department approaching them. They exchanged a look, knowing that their first true test was about to occur. Jimmy had the biggest mouth in the Hoover Building and if anything seemed amiss, everyone at work would know about it.</p><p>“Agent Mulder, Agent Scully,” he said politely. </p><p>“Hello,” Mulder nodded back, his eyes darting to the line for cabs. Maybe they could keep this short if the line moved quickly.</p><p>“Just back from Tokyo, they’ve offered me a Legat position,” he said hurriedly. “Only have a couple of weeks to get all my ducks in a row then I’m headed back for good. It’s amazing over there, you know? Just incredible. Like another planet.”</p><p>“That’s what I hear,” Mulder replied. Scully inwardly rolled her eyes, so ready for sleep she could pass out.</p><p>Jimmy didn’t pay him any mind, and inserted himself between the pair of agents. He turned his back to Mulder and addressed Scully. “You’re in Alexandria too, right, Agent Mulder? Want to share a cab?”</p><p>Scully’s mouth opened a bit, and she cast a glance over Jimmy’s shoulder at Mulder, who was shaking his head violently. Thoughts of her own bed drifted away as she found herself nodding amicably at the interloper. “Okay, sure.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Jimmy said with a smile, and leaned over to unzip the front pocket of his suitcase, jamming some travel documents inside. Scully exchanged a helpless shrug with Mulder. </p><p>“Can you give us a second?” Mulder asked him, briefly stepping out of line and pulling Scully out of his earshot.</p><p>“What are you doing?” he hissed at her.</p><p>“What was I supposed to do?” she hissed back. “Either Jimmy will tell everyone at work what a complete and utter asshole Agent Mulder is, or he cabs it to your place with Agent Scully?” She gestured at his appearance. “Let’s just spend the night at each other’s places tonight and we will figure this out later.”</p><p>Mulder looked unconvinced, and she briefly considered asking him to just accompany her back to her place, but Jimmy would certainly have even more rumors to spread if he saw them both get out of the cab at her apartment. Besides, she was eager to get away from Mulder for even just a couple of hours. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, even if her thoughts were all she had of herself anymore.</p><p>Mulder must have read her expression, for he took her by the hand and turned serious. “Scully, I’m sorry this happened,” he suddenly said, and while she appreciated that he was taking a modicum of responsibility for putting them in this position in the first place, she knew he wasn’t really to blame.</p><p>She shook her head. “This wasn’t your fault, Mulder. I just… I’m worried. I have no idea how this happened or why, and I’m terrified we’re going to be stuck like this forever.”</p><p>It was the first time she’d spoken it aloud, although surely he’d been thinking the same thing. He looked at her through her own eyes, wearing one of her concerned expressions, and it was extremely disconcerting.</p><p>“We will figure this out,” he said sternly. “We always do.” She must have looked unconvinced, because he added “...I promise.”</p><p>She hated when he made promises he couldn’t keep, but nodded anyway because there was nothing else to do. </p><p>“In the meantime, I think you should take my cell phone,” he suggested. “If my source calls, he’s more likely to be helpful if it’s ‘me’ he hears on the other end.”</p><p>She nodded, agreeing. “That sounds reasonable.” He handed her his phone. </p><p>“You’ll have to keep it on every moment,” he said. “This is the only number he has.”</p><p>“Got it. I’ll keep it charged and on me at all times.” She tucked it into her pocket. “How will I get a hold of you, then?”</p><p>He held his hand out. “Give me yours. You can’t answer it as me anyway.”</p><p>She gave him the phone without saying anything. She still must have looked concerned, because Mulder’s tone softened. “My source has to know something about that tech, Scully. Something that could help us.”</p><p>She wasn’t looking at him, but felt him reach out and take her jaw in his hand gently, tilting it down to look at him. Usually he’d tilt her chin up with a finger, but couldn’t, and had called an audible. She couldn’t help but smile.</p><p>“Okay,” she said softly. Trusting him.</p><p>“Hey, you two!” Jimmy yelled from the open cab door. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”</p><p>Scully rolled her eyes. </p><p>“Godspeed and good luck,” Mulder smirked, giving her a little salute.</p><p>Scully climbed into the cab next to Jimmy, who then proceeded to talk her ear off about the forbidden allure of Japanese “maid cafes,” and Scully tried to appear as sleepy as possible to avoid joining in the conversation, which wasn’t difficult, considering the hour. Finally, the cab arrived at Mulder’s apartment and with a perfunctory wave goodbye she slammed the door and left Jimmy behind.</p><p>As she unlocked Mulder’s apartment door and went inside, she wondered what he was doing at her place, in her body, surrounded by her things. She trusted him, of course, but the entire situation felt incredibly intimate. Too intimate.</p><p>She threw Mulder’s keys on his dining room table and took off his jacket, hanging it on his billiard coat rack. She’d been in his apartment alone before, but usually it was because she had no idea where he’d run off to, or to feed his fish or pick up his mail or something. </p><p>She rummaged through his fridge and found nothing that hadn’t exceeded its expiration date. She wasn’t hungry anyway, so she made her way over to his bedroom. Opening the door to it was something she’d never done before. It was messy; piles of junk in boxes all over, and the bed was unmade, but she was so exhausted she collapsed onto it fully dressed. </p><p>
  <em> Wait a minute. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A bed? </em>
</p><p>She was lying on Mulder’s bed. </p><p>It hadn’t even really occurred to her before that the man even had a bed; he usually just planted himself on his couch. Half of her wanted to fall asleep immediately so morning would arrive and she could leave as quickly as possible, but the other half of her couldn’t help but enjoy the closeness of this: the comfort and intimacy of laying in Mulder’s bed.</p><p>She turned over onto her stomach and pulled his pillow underneath her head, inhaling its scent, immediately recognizing that her new appendage was going to make it difficult to get comfortable. Mulder’s enormous penis was in her way, and no matter how she moved her legs, there it was. She couldn’t lie on her stomach, because there it was. And she couldn’t lie as she usually did, on her side with her legs bent slightly, because there it was again. She didn’t want to think about it at all, but the feeling of it between her legs (which were her legs, but they were his… and <em> oh god this was so confusing </em>) was driving her slowly insane.</p><p>She knew she should probably get out of his clothes, brush her teeth, wash her face, but she was suddenly hit with a new wave of exhaustion that prevented her from doing any of those things. So she shut her eyes, trying not to think about Mulder’s private parts, and before she drifted off completely she had a singular thought:</p><p>
  <em> Mulder, you’d better be behaving yourself. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FELINA VISTA APARTMENT COMPLEX</span>
</p><p>
  <span>RACHEL, NEVADA</span>
</p><p>
  <span>MONDAY, 6:45 AM</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morris Fletcher awoke in his shitty bed, in his shitty bedroom, in his shitty apartment. He rolled over and sat on the edge of his mattress, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time for another shitty day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>He searched for his watch amongst the clutter on his nightstand: several prescription bottles, an ashtray full of spent butts. His bedroom didn’t smell the way it used to, not anymore.</span> <span>What had been a pleasant, clean scent when he’d moved in was now almost foul. This place reminded him of his apartment back after he graduated from the Air Force Academy. </span></p><p>
  <span>Trudging into the bathroom he took his typical long shower, put on the same style suit he wore every day, and headed downstairs. He took in the sight of his filthy kitchen: dishes were stacked high, as he’d given up weeks ago. There was no food in the place (of course, there never would be if he didn’t go shopping) but there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> quiet. A vast abundance of quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His life had been extremely quiet since Joanne kicked him out of his house. At first he’d made his peace with the quiet. He’d enjoyed the freedom. But after a while he came to realize the quiet was the easiest way to bring to the forefront how lonely that kind of freedom could be. Morris had always considered himself a bit of a lone wolf, but his pack was gone now. He had no choice in the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These sentiments, however, didn’t circumvent the knowledge that domestic life had been more tedious than any other of his lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Morris Fletcher had lived many lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bypassed the kitchen entirely and headed to work, the only place where he felt like himself anymore. He clocked in, said his hellos to various faces as he weaved through the same dark hallways he always did until he arrived at his office. He was greeted at his door by Jeff, who held out a cup of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Morrie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeff,” he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered his office and sat down at his desk, their usual routine. Jeff held open a box of donuts and Morris looked at them reluctantly; his gut had grown considerably over the past several months due to a strict diet of fast food and microwave meals. But he was starving, so he took one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you hear what happened last night?” Jeff asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Morris muttered through a bite of glaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the machines over in Hangar 19 malfunctioned. At least, they think it did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris stopped mid-bite, his full attention on Jeff now. “Hangar 19?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the General is on the rampage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if summoned by the mention of his name, Morris’s phone rang. The readout said </span>
  <em>
    <span>WEGMAN.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speak of the devil.” Morris picked up the phone warily. “Yes, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s been a situation, Fletcher. My office, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped the phone in its cradle and stood. “Thanks for the donuts, Jeff. Looks like the big boss wants me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeff raised a hand in a wave, mouth stuffed. There were things about Morris’s job that Jeff didn’t know, things that were above his pay grade, so to speak. Morris pitied him. As he left the office and headed to Wegman’s, he wondered how Jeff had survived all these years working in an occupation where he simultaneously knew so much and so little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris stood outside Wegman’s door and knocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” he heard from the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He entered, and the older man gestured for him to sit across from him. Morris glanced around, having not been in this particular office in a while, and his eyes landed on a framed newspaper article, matted with great care. The headline read </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRASH AT ROSWELL.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things were so much simpler in those days, I imagine,” Wegman said reflectively, picking up on what had caught Morris’s eye. “Cover-ups were a far more precise business. Now, the more technology that’s developed, the harder it’s becoming to keep it secret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris nodded, waiting for Wegman to get to the point. This had to be about what had happened last night; Wegman was just taking his usual meandering journey to get there. Morris liked the general well enough, but had to keep his patience in check regarding the man’s chronic verbose manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was an incident last night with the Kettle,” he explained. “Seems like some folks got onto the property, were able to get inside the hangar, and somehow activated the machine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Kettle?” Morris perked up. “Who was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s surveillance footage of them. I managed to get a pretty good look and we’ve determined they’re a couple of FBI agents. Names are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fox. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The name sounded familiar somehow. It wasn’t a name easily forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious, his next question was probably expected. “Can I see the footage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wegman leaned forward to cue up the images on the monitor. While he did so, he continued, “They were given access, Fletcher. Someone invited them here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wegman sighed. “I’m working on figuring that out. Unfortunately, the name of the person who authorized their admittance has been scrubbed from the logs already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spun the monitor around and Morris took in the sight of the perpetrators.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man and a woman, both relatively young, both attractive. The man wore a smart looking suit very much like one of his own, but somehow didn’t quite remind him of himself. He looked like he’d fallen out of a magazine ad. The woman, on the other hand… well, there was something very familiar about her. Morris’s balls felt like they were shriveling up at the mere sight of her. It was almost as if they’d been conditioned to be absolutely terrified of this woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dana,” he muttered to himself, as if trying to jog a memory. “Dana, Dana, Dana.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nothing, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wegman looked down at his desk and shuffled some papers casually. “I’d like you to contact the agents, get them back out here somehow, and wipe their memories. The past couple of days ought to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Morris acquiesced. He turned and headed towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Morris,” Wegman said meaningfully, with a warning tone. Morris turned back. “A couple of days only. No funny business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris gave a winning smile and a little salute. “Absolutely. You can count on me, sir.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kettle was a special, highly classified piece of machinery. Morris wasn’t fully aware of exactly how it worked, but the boys out at Utah had been developing it over the past several months with technology they’d had access to for decades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The energy inside the Kettle could erase memories, and retrieve them. Morris had encountered no shortage of disaster trials: coyotes with eight legs, snakes growing cactus arms. Lizards with their heads stuck in rocks. But after months and months of testing, when used properly, the memory erasure seemed to work the way it was supposed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The FBI agents had escaped, in any event. Two people came in, two people left. No one’s head seemed to be stuck in a rock and for that he was grateful: not because Morris Fletcher cared particularly about the well-being of trespassers, but because cleaning up that kind of mess was much more difficult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris entered Hangar 19 with his clearance key and shut the door behind him. He approached the control console of the Kettle and pulled up his credentials. Typically when someone’s memories had been retrieved by the machine, the information would appear on the monitor: images, data, some clear and some not so clear. The bugs were still being worked out. Human memory wasn’t always accurate or even measurable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He expected to see some evidence that one of the agents had activated the machine, but he saw nothing. There were no stored memories. It was as if no one had even been there the previous evening at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confused, he shut the machine down. He wasn’t sure what to suggest to Wegman, other than tracking down the agents and removing their memories of their visit anyway just to be safe. But it nagged at him. What had they been doing here? What had happened with the machine?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And why did they seem so damn familiar?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris went back to his office, closed the door and locked it. He sat at his desk, opened the bottom right drawer, and popped out the hidden compartment beneath; the compartment that he went to whenever this odd feeling came over him. Underneath the sliver of wood was a small metal cylindrical device, and next to it was a neatly stacked pile of photographs. They were each a single shot of a person with a name written beneath: Franklin Pastor. Vince Rivers. Renata Zasio (</span>
  <em>
    <span>that one was a doozy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he recalled vaguely.) And at the bottom of the pile, as he’d suspected, was an image of a familiar handsome guy in a suit. Beneath his face was scrawled a name: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fox Mulder</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he smiled to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bits and pieces came back to him, occasionally, but memory was funny that way. If he didn’t keep these little mementos he might forget entirely what he was capable of, the lives he’d led in the past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fox Mulder had been the first, and snippets of memories of his time in the man's body came back to him now: a desk in a bullpen. Tiger Woods. A waterbed. That blonde secretary: </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that was fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Mostly though, a different woman’s face that regarded him with a persistent, yet sexy, air of intolerance: a raised eyebrow, an irritated scowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dana Scully.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dana, Dana, Dana.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was remembering now, some of it. He’d been so close and instead of blowing him, she’d ended up blowing his cover completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dana Scully was the one that got away. Actually, this life, the life of FBI agent Fox Mulder was the life that got away. Each of the other lives he’d tried hadn’t been as carefree and glamorous as Fox Mulder’s had seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up the metallic device that had remained hidden in this drawer for the past couple of months, thinking it was time to put it to good use once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morris Fletcher leaned back into his six-year-old chair with the terrible lumbar support and the arms that were crumbling off in pieces, and grinned. A cunning, villainous grin. He was going to find those agents, all right, but he didn’t plan to simply wipe their memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He planned to get Fox Mulder’s life back.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SCULLY’S APARTMENT</p><p>GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON D.C.</p><p>MONDAY, 7:30 AM</p><p> </p><p>Mulder woke up in an unfamiliar room; strange in its unusual bright golden light. He was disorientated at first, as his living room was typically darker than this, even in the morning. But as the haze of drowsiness drifted away, he recognized where he was: Scully’s living room.</p><p>He’d fallen asleep on her couch, and the first thing he noticed when he attempted to sit up was a sharp pain in his lower back. He reached behind him, arching in discomfort, trying to stretch, and when he did so he noticed his chest pushing out just beneath his eyeline. It was an unfamiliar chest.</p><p>It was Scully’s chest.</p><p><em> It wasn’t a dream</em>, he told himself, even though he knew it hadn’t been. Flashes of last night went through his mind: arriving at Scully’s apartment, so tired he could barely move. He’d wanted nothing more than to get comfortable and fall asleep, and had debated changing out of her clothes at all but realized not doing so was silly. Unless he planned to stay in the same outfit forever, never taking it off once, it had made no sense to keep it on overnight. </p><p>He’d located a set of her blue silk pajamas, barely suppressing a sigh of comfort at the feel of them, smooth and feminine, something tactile that had actually touched her skin. He’d undressed with his eyes closed. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to look at his body- <em> her body </em>- because he couldn’t shake the feeling it was somehow an invasion of her privacy. Then, considering it prudent not to breach the sanctity of her bed, he’d plopped down onto her couch and fallen into an unusually deep sleep.</p><p>Now, as he stood to make his way to the bathroom, his back protested angrily and he regretted that decision. Scully was clearly not used to his usual brand of couch-surfing and now her back would be paying the price.</p><p>He used the toilet, wiping as softly and carefully as possible, and as he went to wash his hands he looked into the mirror.</p><p>For the first time he saw Scully staring back at him. He knew she would be, of course, but the reality of actually seeing himself inhabiting her body was something he’d been unprepared for. He opened his mouth, so did she. He blinked, so did she. He stuck out his tongue. Scully did it back.</p><p>While surrounded by the unavoidable weirdness of this situation, he couldn’t deny she was absolutely beautiful, even upon waking. Sleep-ruffled Scully was a sight he hadn’t seen, not quite this way. He imagined for just a moment what it would be like to wake up with this Scully lying next to him. Her eyes stared back into his, deep and blue, and her hair… well, her hair looked different. More vibrant than he was used to. Dare he say more red?</p><p>He’d never before had the opportunity to study her face, for all the times he’d caught himself gazing, and, congratulating himself for having been such a gentleman the night before, allowed himself the indulgence now: absorbing every line, every freckle, every crinkle. All the ones he knew already and many he’d never had the opportunity to notice. All of them exquisitely, uniquely Scully.</p><p>
  <em> I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly. </em>
</p><p>An image of her face appeared in his mind like a flash, a streak of light, and just as quickly it was gone. He pulled back from the mirror and shook his head.</p><p>
  <em> What the hell was that? </em>
</p><p>It wasn’t a memory, surely he’d remember Scully saying something like that. And it wasn’t simply a daydream; it had been far too specific. Nighttime sky, an amethyst hue to her skin in the dim moonlight. And most distinctly, an overwhelming feeling of melancholy he could not account for.</p><p>He shook it off, but it unsettled him. </p><p>He wandered back out into her living room when Scully’s phone rang, and out of pure instinct he picked it up. “Hello?”</p><p>“Hi Dana, it’s Mom.”</p><p><em> Fuck. </em>“Oh… er, hi, Mom. How are you?”</p><p>“I’m doing great, sweetheart. Just reminding you tonight’s dinner is black tie, so I hope you have something suitable to wear.”</p><p>
  <em> Dinner? With Scully’s mother?  </em>
</p><p>“Er- dinner? Can you remind me?”</p><p>Margaret Scully sighed. “Bill’s promotion dinner, Dana. He’s been made Commander, remember? We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”</p><p>“Right, right,” he replied, trying to sound as Scully-like as possible. He couldn’t say no; he and Scully would have to figure this out somehow. Besides, he wanted to get off the phone as quickly as possible. “Sounds good, I’ll see you there.”</p><p>“Seven thirty sharp, Dana,” her mother said, quite sternly.</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>“You’re always working so hard, sweetheart. Please try to be punctual this time, okay?”</p><p>“I will. Seven thirty.”</p><p>“Goodbye, dear.”</p><p>“‘Bye.”</p><p>He hung up the phone and collapsed onto the couch, the prospect of attending a Scully family event that included Bill Jr. the least enticing thing about all of this so far. The phone rang again, and rather than make the same mistake twice, he let the answering machine pick up. </p><p>“Mulder? Mulder, it’s me,” boomed his own voice into her living room. He grabbed the receiver instantly, stopping the recording.</p><p>“Scully, hey,” he said as casually as he could muster.</p><p>“Hi,” she said. It was the oddest sensation, he reckoned, to essentially have a conversation with oneself on the phone. “I just… have a question. About all of this.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>He heard her sigh somewhat apprehensively. “I’ve been standing in your bathroom for ten minutes deciding whether or not I should take a shower.”</p><p>He hadn’t thought about it, really, but he knew he would probably have to do the same at some point. Scully would be more annoyed at the prospect of coworkers thinking she didn’t shower than if he’d just bitten the bullet and gone through the motions of any reasonably hygienic human. He wondered how the hell he would manage to perform that particular task while maintaining all of his previously established gentlemanly inhibitions. </p><p>“I think… we should do exactly what we’d normally do, Scully,” he suggested. “I know it’s weird, but... I don’t mind if you don’t.”</p><p>She was quiet on the other end, no doubt considering the ramifications of this: her male partner, stripping her down naked and lathering her body up with soap, his mind going wild as he washed himself clean. </p><p>He knew she must be thinking this, because these very images had pushed themselves into his brain like an unwelcome porno film.</p><p>“I think you’re right,” she said. “We need to just move forward, Mulder.”</p><p>“As if we’re going to be stuck this way forever?” he quipped, and it was meant to be a lighthearted offhand comment, but he realized too late it couldn’t be. Not when they had no earthly reason to believe they could ever find a way out of this.</p><p>“Yes,” she replied, however. “Unfortunately.” </p><p>“It’s not so bad being you, Scully,” he offered weakly. “Your apartment is so clean and it smells really good. And your bed looks… comfortable.”</p><p>“‘Looks?’”</p><p>He grimaced. “Yeah, I, uh… sort of slept on your couch instead.”</p><p>“Why did you do that?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Just felt like the right thing to do, I guess. Although my back is killing me now.”</p><p>A heavy, awkward silence lingered on the line, and he wanted nothing more than to break it. “By the way, your mom called... something about dinner tonight?”</p><p>He heard her inhale in remembrance. “Oh, shit. Bill’s thing. I can’t miss it, Mulder, I’m on thin ice with the family already for forgetting Matthew’s last birthday.”</p><p>“I figured,” he said. He had been hoping she would suggest they get out of it somehow but she sounded so frustrated he wanted to ease her fears. “It will be fine, okay? I can just make a short appearance and try not to talk to anyone very much.”</p><p>Scully scoffed. “Yeah, that will restore some good will with my family for sure,” she bemoaned.</p><p>“Well, what do you suggest?” he asked gently. “I’m open to any and all ideas.”</p><p>She thought for a minute. “I’ll come with you. I mean, Mulder will come with you.”</p><p>It hadn’t crossed his mind, but it was pretty brilliant. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “That’s a great idea.”</p><p>“I can be right by your side if you get into trouble. Besides, my mom likes you anyway. She’ll be thrilled to see you with me.”</p><p>He furrowed his brow. “She does?”</p><p>He could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Of course she does, Mulder. Why do you think she puts up with any of this?”</p><p>“I…” he trailed off. The idea that Margaret Scully had a soft spot for him warmed his heart and stunned him practically speechless. “That’s just really nice of you to say.”</p><p>The awkward silence was gone, replaced by a cozy, comfortable one. Even comfortable silences, however, were apparently dangerous, because Scully broke the spell. “Well, I’d better get ready for work. Wish me luck tying one of your ties.”</p><p>“Good luck,” he said. “Oh, did you get any calls, by the way?”</p><p>“Nothing yet,” she answered. </p><p>“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”</p><p>They hung up and he walked purposefully towards her bedroom, pulling out one of her suits, laying it on the bed, then realizing he was going to have to go through her underwear drawer as well. </p><p>Perhaps still not quite used to the discrepancy between his and Scully’s respective strengths, he pulled on the top drawer of her dresser, which he assumed contained what he sought, a bit too hard. It slid all the way forward and he couldn’t stop his eye from catching the enormous fuschia dildo Scully kept hidden (or at least had attempted to keep hidden) in the back of the drawer.</p><p>He reacted quickly, perhaps too quickly, closing and slamming his fingers in the drawer.</p><p>“Ow!” he grimaced, looking down to assess the damage. <em> Jesus, I haven’t even been a woman for twenty four hours and I’ve already cracked a nail. </em></p><p>He tried unsuccessfully to forget his newfound knowledge that Scully apparently pleasured herself in this very room with this very dildo - this rather large dildo - and headed into the bathroom. </p><p>For some reason her permission had made him impatient to follow through, and he tried to convince himself the scenario of touching Scully’s naked soapy body wasn’t solely responsible, but he knew it was. He cursed his hot-blooded maleness as he unbuttoned her pajamas quickly, turning on the shower and waited for the water to get hot.</p><p>As he waited, in his periphery he caught a glimpse of himself in Scully’s bathroom mirror. It wasn’t much; the angle was a bit from the side, a bit from the rear. But before he could avert his eyes, he noted the gentle curve along his backside: the smooth, creamy, flawless skin. The tiny ouroboros nestled above the curve of her buttocks. His insides ached with longing for a version of her he couldn’t have.</p><p>The water eventually ran hot and Mulder stepped inside, trying his hardest to stare at the wall. Blue ceramic tile, maybe aquamarine? No, cerulean blue. He smiled as he reached for the soap and lathered up.</p><p><em> He would not look, he would not look. </em> He started with his face, then his arms, and his legs. His stomach, which was flat and smooth. His fingers ran across something small and hard at her bellybutton and his eyes bulged with the realization she apparently had a navel piercing. Not looking down to see it was, without a doubt, the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. </p><p>After randomly selecting a shampoo and conditioner from the dozen or so bottles Scully had in her shower and washing his hair, he realized he couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore. If he was going to get clean, he was going to have to touch. </p><p>He’d been given permission to touch. </p><p>He very quickly ran his hands over his chest. <em> Scully’s breasts. </em> It was so hard not to think of them that way- it seemed, he could only hope, they were merely on loan to him- but at the same time her body was his now. What else could he do?</p><p>He quickly ran his hands along his backside, then to his front, where, for the first time he truly and properly appreciated the absence of something he’d grown quite accustomed to. He just as quickly jerked his hand away, feeling it was still somewhat of a violation, and quickly rinsed and shut the shower off. He was in such a hurry to get out of the shower he failed to remember it was situated directly across from a mirror, and despite his valiant efforts to keep himself from looking, he looked.</p><p>He looked at naked Scully in all of her naked glory.</p><p>“Shit!” he yelled, running out of the bathroom, and it came out in her voice, of course, so he clapped his hands over his own mouth. Suddenly everything about the situation was so unbelievably absurd he began to laugh. Scully’s laugh. And her laugh was something special. He continued laughing until his sides began to hurt. And then, just as quickly as he’d begun, he stopped laughing, catching his breath, aware that there was actually nothing funny about any of this.</p><p>He stood alone in her bedroom, naked and wet, wondering how on earth they would get themselves out of this mess. The idea that this could be a permanent situation was trying its damndest to get into his head, to make him doubt. But he pushed those thoughts away. For now, he had to forge ahead, he had to get dressed. He had to go to work. So he stepped over to her dresser again and mustered the courage to sift through Scully’s unmentionables, keeping his attention and hands towards the front of the drawer.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING</p><p>WASHINGTON, D.C</p><p>MONDAY, 8:55 AM</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>When Mulder saw her again at the office, he felt extremely self-conscious, and even slightly humiliated. He’d done nothing wrong, he continued to tell himself, but he still felt uncomfortable with having unfettered access to Scully’s body, to her most private self. Could she tell what had gone on in his mind this morning? Could she see his struggle? And when he saw her enter their office dressed in one of his suits and a terribly tied tie, he wondered for the first time: was she experiencing a similar struggle?</p><p>“Morning,” she greeted him.  “We have a meeting with Skinner in twenty minutes.” </p><p>He let out a low groan. “We already got an ass kicking from Kersh. What on earth could he possibly add?”<br/><br/>“<em>I </em>already got an ass kicking, you mean,” she corrected him, hanging up his trench coat on the coat rack. </p><p>“Yeah, sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Did you get any other phone calls?”</p><p>She glared at him. “No, Mulder. I promise I will tell you if our one possible hope for getting out of this situation calls.”</p><p>He put his hands up, grinning. “Got it. Message received.”</p><p>She grinned back, but as she stepped closer, a look of abject horror crossed her masculine features. “Mulder, did you happen to look in a mirror before you left the apartment?!”</p><p>He stood a bit self-consciously, straightened out the skirt he’d carefully chosen from her closet. “What?”</p><p>She closed the door behind her and walked over to his desk, opening one of his bottom drawers. </p><p>“Scully, maybe… maybe don’t go poking around down there--”</p><p>“If you’re concerned about me finding videos and magazines you ‘don’t own’, don’t be,” she grumbled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized the titles by now.”</p><p>He shut his mouth, craning his neck to see what she was looking for. She closed the drawer, producing a toiletry bag. He raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“In case of emergencies,” she explained. “Although I never anticipated using any of this on you.”</p><p>“Any of what?”</p><p>Scully sighed, tucking the bag underneath her armpit and placing both hands on his shoulders, guiding him out of the room. It was nice, the feeling of being smaller than she was for once. He quite enjoyed it.</p><p>She walked him all the way into the basement ladies’ room, locking the door behind them. No one ever came down here but the two of them, so he inwardly crossed his fingers that they’d be left alone. Once inside, she stopped him in front of the mirror.</p><p>“What’s wrong with this picture?” she asked.</p><p>He shrugged. “Nothing.” He meant it. Sure, he hadn’t put on makeup or anything like that, but Scully’s face always looked beautiful to him.</p><p>Scully sighed with exasperation, and began fumbling around inside the bag. She pulled out a brush and a blow dryer, plugged it in, and began primping him. After several minutes, he glanced into the mirror, finding the image of himself doing Scully’s hair rather humorous.</p><p>“You do this every morning?” he asked, chuckling. </p><p>“What?!” she yelled over the roar of the dryer.</p><p>“Nothing!” he yelled back.</p><p>He waited for her to finish, then she searched in the bag for something else. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and what he assumed was mascara.</p><p>“Open your mouth,” she instructed, and he obeyed. “Sort of smile a bit,” she commanded, showing him how. He dutifully followed suit, thinking it was pretty hot, her bossing him around like this. She softly touched the lipstick to his mouth, and lightly applied it over his lips. He was so distracted by the intimacy of his own face so close, that for a moment he almost transcended his own body; a voyeur to their activities.</p><p>“Mulder,” she said, in what felt like a repetitive way. “I said go like this.” She rubbed her lips together and he copied her, hoping beyond hope he was performing the way she expected. She then applied the mascara, one eye at a time. When she was done, he looked into the mirror.</p><p>“Perfect,” he breathed softly, without even realizing it. Then, to keep her from feeling embarrassed, he added, “but to be totally honest, I can hardly notice the difference, Scully.”</p><p>She smiled and rolled her eyes, then searched in the bag one more time. Her eyes widened as she looked inside, seemingly in realization. “Oh god.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>She lifted out a tampon. “Please tell me you don’t need me to teach you how to use one of these,” she said, utterly horrified. Her face turned a shade of red he hadn’t realized his own skin was capable of.</p><p>He nearly burst out laughing, but did not, and simply shook his head. “Don’t you keep track of that kind of thing?”</p><p>“I do, generally, but forgive me for being a bit off kilter this morning.” She looked thoughtful, doing some mental math. “Let’s hope we get out of this before next week. Mascara is one thing, but you’ll be on your own next time.”</p><p>“Come on, Scully, you’re a doctor,” he chided gently.</p><p>She ignored him, stuffing the tampon back into the bag. </p><p>“Scully, if we’re not out of this by next week, I’m pretty sure we’ll have bigger problems to deal with than tampons.”</p><p>“You’re right. Let’s just forget this conversation even happened.”</p><p>He shrugged, knowing if the two of them were good at anything, it was forgetting certain conversations ever happened.</p><p>Scully stepped back to take a look at him. “You’re still missing something.” While she pondered, Mulder stepped up to her and quickly fixed the atrocious knot she’d made in his tie.</p><p>“You’re not perfect either,” he grumbled goodnaturedly, and she smirked at him. As he removed his hands from her finished tie, she glanced down and noticed the small casualty he’d suffered that morning.</p><p>“Mulder, what happened?” she asked, taking his hand in hers and inspecting the cracked fingernail. </p><p>He instantly felt his face turn red as he recalled exactly how he’d injured himself. “Oh nothing, I just… miscalculated.”</p><p>“I’ll help you file that down later, okay? Be careful.”</p><p>“Ooh, a manicure? How luxurious.”</p><p>“Mulder, shut up.” She dove back into her bag one last time, pulling out a pair of pantyhose, presenting them to him triumphantly.</p><p>He shook his head. “Scully, no.”</p><p>“Mulder, yes.”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow, approaching him again teasingly, and he sighed in acquiescence. </p><p>“Okay, fine,” he said as he raised the sad-looking pinky nail, “but later we’re going to have a toenail trimming session and you’re going to love it.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The pair headed up to Skinner’s office, Mulder trying unsuccessfully to walk in Scully’s impractical shoes. He’d had no choice, really; the only shoes in her closet without three inch heels were sneakers. They got strange looks like they always did, although this time he was acutely aware of the looks he was getting from men in the building: men he knew. Mostly men he didn’t like. They weren’t even trying to hide the way they leered at the woman they all believed was Dana Scully as they made their way through the Hoover building.</p><p>He wanted to lean in and make a comment, maybe utter a sincere apology on behalf of heterosexual men everywhere, but it felt inappropriate at the moment. Someday, somehow, they would look back on all of this and laugh together. He could only hope.</p><p>When they arrived at A.D. Skinner’s office, his assistant clarified that Skinner only needed to see Agent Scully, but that it should be quick. Mulder eyed Scully suspiciously, but she shrugged and sat down onto the couch, rather humorously trying to figure out how to position her long legs.</p><p>“I’ll wait for you out here,” she said rather placidly, once she was settled.</p><p>“You can go in, Agent Scully,” Arlene said to Mulder.</p><p>He entered a bit clumsily on his heels, straightening his skirt out. The first thing he noticed was that Skinner didn’t glare at him the way he was used to. </p><p>“Have a seat, Agent Scully,” Skinner said politely. He gestured to the table behind him, on which sat a newly purchased steaming to-go cup. “Coffee?”</p><p><em> Coffee? </em> He had never been offered so much as a breath mint from Skinner before. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen a cup of coffee in this office.</p><p>“Sure, thanks,” he said. Skinner handed Mulder the cup and he took a sip.</p><p>He nearly spat it out.</p><p>Mulder should have been expecting an overly sweet concoction, but he wasn’t, and by the way he choked and sputtered, dribbling coffee down his front, he could tell Skinner wasn’t expecting this either.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” he asked, concerned. “Cream and two sugars, I thought that was how you like it?”</p><p>“I do, I do,” he squeaked, taking another swig of the stuff, forcing it down. “It’s perfect, sorry, just a little… hot.”</p><p>Skinner looked at him oddly. Mulder wiped the front of his shirt half-heartedly, hoping Scully had a spare in the office somewhere. He set the cup on Skinner’s desk and gave him a too-wide smile.</p><p>“Agent Scully, I need you to go to Quantico and do an autopsy,” Skinner said. “There are some new recruits there to observe.”</p><p>Mulder’s stomach dropped. “Er- today, sir?” he asked weakly. </p><p>“They’re expecting you at noon,” Skinner replied. </p><p>He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Is there maybe someone else…” he trailed off, catching himself at Skinner’s raised eyebrow. Scully would never refuse a simple assignment like this, especially the day after they’d already gotten into trouble. </p><p>“I want to send the best, Agent Scully,” he said carefully. “In my estimation, that’s you. Do you disagree with that assessment?”</p><p>“No, sir,” he said automatically. He certainly couldn't perform an autopsy, but Skinner didn’t know that. Scully was the best, and they both knew it. He would never want to diminish how anyone held her in their estimation. </p><p>He found himself nodding. He had absolutely no choice. “I’ll head over immediately. Will… Agent Mulder be joining me?” Maybe he could have a chance in hell of getting through this with Scully by his side, even though he had no idea how to explain her presence.</p><p>Skinner looked at him again, oddly. “No. He’s going to stay put and finish all that paperwork he told me was already done.”</p><p>Mulder said nothing, and bit his lip. Whenever he did it he was keenly aware he was actually biting Scully’s lip and it gave him a secret, albeit inconvenient thrill. He ran the tip of his tongue over the soft, hot flesh and felt an odd pounding at the juncture of his thighs. The discreet nature of female arousal was, he realized, far less inconvenient than his own.</p><p>“Agent Scully,” Skinner began with an odd look on his face, “I realize you and Agent Mulder are apparently attached at the hip, but surely you can manage a simple autopsy without him.”</p><p>Mulder nodded. “Of course sir, of course I can.” He took the file timidly, which Skinner had been holding out this entire time, and stood. “Will that be all?”</p><p>“Yes. Thank you.” Skinner turned his attention back to his paperwork, and Mulder knew there would be no further conversation. He turned and left the office, his head spinning. </p><p>How the hell was he going to perform an autopsy? He immediately regretted not coming up with an excuse, but that look on Skinner’s face… he couldn’t bear to let Scully take the fall for what had happened to them - for any reason. </p><p>Mulder trudged out into the anteroom to deliver the news.</p><p>“You’re not going to believe this,” he gritted through his teeth, an eye on Arlene to make sure she wasn’t listening.</p><p>“Tell me something I haven’t heard before,” Scully teased.</p><p>He grabbed her by her bicep and walked her out of the room. “You have to go do an autopsy. I mean, I do. At Quantico. Today.”</p><p>Scully’s jaw dropped. “What?”</p><p>Mulder threw his arms out helplessly, narrowly avoiding hitting a fellow agent as he passed by with a disgruntled side-eye. “I’m sorry, but what was I supposed to do? Skinner practically forced me, he said he was sending me because I’m the best!” He looked at her. “You are the best, aren’t you?”</p><p>She squeezed the bridge of her nose between two man-sized fingers. “You couldn’t have faked an illness or something? Didn’t you ever cut class in school?”</p><p>Mulder crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Dana Katherine Scully,” he chastised. “As I live and breathe.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. He suddenly made it a lifetime goal to learn more about what Scully had been like in high school. </p><p>“If you have any suggestions, Scully, I’m all ears,” he muttered. “Hopefully something that doesn’t involve me slicing and dicing.” </p><p>He handed the file over and she perused it. “From these preliminary details it seems like a pretty standard autopsy.” She sighed, mumbling to herself. “Why Skinner couldn’t get someone already over at Quantico to do this…” she trailed off.</p><p>“He likes you,” Mulder said. He’d always suspected Skinner had a soft spot for Scully, how could he not? But his suspicions had been confirmed by that meeting. Skinner respected Scully, he admired her. Mulder hoped beyond hope that the admiration stopped there.</p><p>Scully dismissed this observation as she continued to read. “If there were some way I could be in constant contact with you, I think this is something you could actually do, Mulder. At least get it started.”</p><p>Mulder blinked at her. “What? You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“Well, it’s too late to feign an illness now,” she pointed out. “You’ve seen me do this a hundred times. You’ll have to go through with it.”</p><p>“How?!”</p><p>She looked thoughtful, then shook her head. “We have to do this together. We’ll make an excuse. Figure out some reason I need to be in there with you.”</p><p>Mulder shook his head, knowing there was no possible reason or excuse that the perfectly capable Doctor Scully could need or even want Agent Mulder by her side in an autopsy, telling her what to do. “Even if there was a way to have that make an iota of sense, you can’t. Skinner said you have to finish yesterday’s paperwork.” </p><p>“And since when do I, Fox Mulder, do what Skinner says?” she challenged. </p><p>He balked. “Point taken.”</p><p>“The paperwork will wait,” she insisted. “Protecting my reputation is higher on my priority list at the moment.”</p><p>He looked at her apprehensively. “Are you sure about this, Scully? It feels a bit unethical, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Scully nodded. “Yes. Yes, it does.” </p><p>She said no more, and it was as if they’d silently agreed that what they were planning to do was, in fact, a breach of both their morals and ethics. But they also were in agreement that Scully’s reputation was at stake, and the ends in this case justified the very dubious means.</p><p>At least the guy was already dead, Mulder rationalized. He couldn’t accidentally kill him.</p><p>“Okay,” he conceded, steeling himself. “I’ll do it. But only because it’s for you,” he said sternly, and she grinned.</p><p>“Now we just need to figure out how I can be in that autopsy bay with you,” she said. </p><p>“You can’t be in there with me,” he said. But then, his eyes widened, formulating an idea. “At least, not unless you’re invisible.” He caught her eye, and she looked confused, but he determinedly strode towards the elevator to head back downstairs, Scully following right behind him with giant strides.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>SCIENTIFIC RESPONSE AND ANALYSIS LABORATORY</p><p>QUANTICO, VIRGINIA</p><p>MONDAY, 11:54 AM</p><p>
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</p><p>A brief phone call and a stop at the Gunmen’s had procured a tiny undetectable listening device that Mulder could place in his ear. Their meeting had been quick, and luckily Langly hadn’t asked too many questions. A promise of a meetup soon to tell the guys all about Dreamland was enough to get them off his back for now.</p><p>The drive to Quantico was only about twenty minutes, but it was enough for Scully to give Mulder the information he’d need to get the autopsy started. Their plan was for ‘Scully’ to begin, and for ‘Mulder’ to burst in after a couple of minutes, taking her away on urgent business. </p><p>When they arrived, he suited up in some scrubs (the extra small size) and took a deep breath. He could see the body on a gurney, flanked by a dozen trainees, all awaiting the best pathologist the FBI had to offer.</p><p>Mulder reached into the pocket of Scully’s lab coat, into which he’d placed the tiny device, and with a surreptitious glance to make sure no one was around to see, inserted it into his ear.</p><p>“Scully,” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”</p><p>“I’m right here,” his own voice came immediately. “I’m observing through the window. You’ll see me when you walk into the bay.”</p><p>He nodded and acknowledged her verbally, then took another deep breath. He could do this. Scully was counting on him.</p><p>Before he knew what was happening he had entered the bay and was standing in front of a dead male body, half covered with a sheet. He looked down at the greyish pallor of the corpse’s skin and gulped loudly.</p><p>“Good morning,” he squeaked. At least two dozen eyes stared back at him expectantly. He picked up the chart and looked at it, Scully’s instructions bouncing around in his mind, trying to make sense of all the information she’d given him. Then he heard her speaking as clear as a bell, in his own voice, as if his very thoughts were audible.</p><p>“The purpose of an autopsy is to determine the cause, mode, and manner of death,” he began, dictating her spiel as she rattled it off inside his ear. The trainees, who clearly already knew all of this, looked bored. “So that… we can establish what exactly... happened to this guy,” Mulder ad-libbed.</p><p>He looked down at the man, realizing there was no way to delay the inevitable any further and he’d better get on with this, because the sooner he began, the sooner it would all be over.</p><p>
  <em> "You okay, Mulder?” </em>
</p><p>He saw Scully standing outside the bay and nodded imperceptibly.</p><p>“<em> Y- incision,” </em> she urged gently. The trainees stared at him blankly. </p><p>“Er- I’ll be starting with the Y-incision.”</p><p>He picked up the scalpel that had been laid out on the medical table, the one Scully had instructed him to use. He held it in his hand and this was no longer a hypothetical situation. He was going to cut open a dead body. His stomach gurgled.</p><p>“You want to be sure to begin the cuts all the way up at each shoulder joint,” he parroted as Scully spoke into his ear, and laid the scalpel against the dead flesh. He knew some of these details from simply looking over Scully’s shoulder for several years, but he’d usually preferred waiting outside with two cups of coffee until she was finished.</p><p><em> “You can do this,” </em>she said quietly into his ear.</p><p>They’d agreed he would have to make it through these critical first steps before she would come to his rescue in order for their ruse to appear as authentic as possible. He closed his eyes and pictured her face, her confidence, and attempted to summon some of it for himself.</p><p>
  <em> I can do this. </em>
</p><p>He lifted the scalpel as if in slow motion, then dragged the blade along the path Scully had carefully described, left clavicle to sternum, trying to imagine he was cutting into a spoiled steak or something. It wasn’t working. The smell was atrocious and his stomach protested as he reached the end of the “Y” with his first cut.</p><p>He felt sweat beading across his forehead and while the physical act of cutting open a human body was difficult enough, he hadn’t predicted the mental toll it would take on him. He’d always appreciated Scully’s role in their investigations but in this moment, he’d never appreciated her more.</p><p>
  <em> “You’re doing fine, Mulder. Now the right clavicle, just like we talked about.” </em>
</p><p>He made the second incision exactly like she told him, and as the scalpel cut through the dead grey flesh he finally caught a glance of what lay inside. A flashback of digging around in a disposal bin for Leonard Betts’ severed head came screaming back to him; piles of human body parts discarded, and the smell… <em> oh god </em>… the smell invaded his olfactory memory with a vengeance as he recalled every single dead body he’d ever encountered in the field. It was a rich scent, almost gamey, like standing in a butcher shop without ventilation in the middle of August. It was so powerful he had to step back, his entire body breaking out into a cold sweat, and he felt faint, his eyelids drooping, his head spinning. </p><p>A concerned trainee finally spoke up. “Are you all right, Agent Scully?”</p><p>He nodded, but didn’t speak, worried if he opened his mouth his breakfast might come up. To make matters worse, pain in his back from that morning was flaring up again. He mustered the strength to glance up at the observation window, where he saw what he thought was his own reflection, but knew it was her, nodding her encouragement. “<em> You can do this </em>,” she said again, and it felt like because Scully had uttered it, it had manifested into truth.</p><p>He turned his attention back to the task at hand. </p><p>
  <em> I can do this. </em>
</p><p>The next step was to remove the muscle and connective tissue so that he could begin to cut through the bone, and while he knew Scully would retrieve him very soon, he suddenly felt the eyes from the surrounding trainees boring into him like lasers. They weren’t impressed, and he was Scully, damn it. He wanted them to be impressed.</p><p><em> “...The bone saw, Mulder,” </em> Scully was saying into his ear. “ <em> Pick up the bone saw. You’re almost there.” </em></p><p>The entire point of this exercise was to get out of it alive, but suddenly he felt a strong desire to regain the respect of the trainees. It was Scully they were watching, judging, not him. He felt duty-bound to safeguard her reputation, especially since he took some responsibility for putting the both of them in this position in the first place.</p><p>He closed his eyes, imagining her performing this autopsy expertly and with ease, and for a moment it felt as if he’d actually become her. He was outside of himself, outside of Fox Mulder, and as the trainees watched, he picked up the bone saw and began to cut the clavicles, then down the sides. Before he even comprehended what he’d done, he’d completely removed the rib cage.</p><p><em> “Mulder!” </em> he heard, muffled, from the other side of the window, and he blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. He was well past the point they’d agreed upon, and suddenly he was looking down into the dead man’s chest: at lungs and blood and <em> oh god… are those maggots? </em></p><p>Yes, indeed, it was a tiny pile of squirming larvae inside the punctured lung. And as he reeled from the sight he could not escape the sound; one he would not soon forget, almost like the mastication of styrofoam. With the exception of taste (which even he was loath to add to the list) each one of his senses were revolting now.</p><p>He couldn’t fake this anymore. He couldn’t pretend he was Scully, he couldn’t pretend he was anyone other than his squeamish old self, and just as he felt bile rising in the back of his throat Scully burst in, his long black trench floating behind her as if in slow motion.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” she grumbled in his own voice, taking his arm and guiding him gently away from the gurney. He felt dizzy and he knew he was about to throw up. “Urgent call from the Director, I need to borrow her.” She gestured to the assistant, who up until now had been standing silently next to who he thought was Scully. “Take over, will you?”</p><p>Scully led him out into the hallway as he did everything he could to appear unfazed. He failed miserably. The confused trainees watched Agent ‘Spooky’ Mulder lead the best pathologist in D.C. out by the arm, doubled over.</p><p>He fought back the urge to barf with every fiber of his being, and breathed deeply as he bent over, feeling her hands on his back. He hoped there was no one in the corridor watching them.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he got out, after the nausea began to dissipate. “I should have stopped sooner.”</p><p>“No, you did good, Mulder,” she said quietly, rubbing his back softly. “You did better than I thought you would.”</p><p>“Are you quite well, Miss Scully?” came a sneering voice from a few feet away. A surly no-nonsense type man with a bottlebrush moustache had stepped up to the pair, looking down at ‘Scully’ with disdain. Mulder wasn’t sure who exactly this guy was, and he certainly didn’t care.</p><p>“It’s <em> Doctor </em> Scully, and she’s fine,” Scully said irritably from beside him. </p><p>The man scoffed. “I’ve told them time and time again the morgue is no place for women,” he said curtly to Scully, assuming the camaraderie of another male. “This job requires a little more than the gentler sex can give.”</p><p>As much as he wanted to defend Scully’s honor, Mulder was in no state to get into an argument. But the other ‘Mulder’ seemed to be handling it, as he expected she would.</p><p>“She just had something at lunch that disagreed with her, that’s all,” Scully tried. But the man looked unconvinced.</p><p>“I see.” </p><p>Mulder felt Scully’s hands leave his shoulders as she stood up and walked the man out of what she thought was his earshot.</p><p>“I’ll handle this, all right, man?” she said in a very un-Mulderlike tone. The guy nodded, fully satisfied that a man was “handling” the situation, and retreated. She turned back to Mulder and he stood up woozily.</p><p>“I really am sorry,” he said again. He wasn’t sure what else to say.</p><p>She held a hand up and shook her head. “No, I’m sorry for asking you to do this,” she said. “It serves us right.” She peeked through the window into the bay, where the assistant seemed to be continuing the autopsy without much interruption or upheaval. “Looks like he’s got it under control, at least.”</p><p>She took Mulder by the arm and led him down the hallway. “Don’t get too close,” he warned. “I’m… not well.”</p><p>She chuckled, leading him towards the bathroom. “It’s okay. If you need someone to hold back your hair while you puke, I’m your man.”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Special shoutout to Aloysia Virgata, who helped me out with the autopsy details.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SCULLY’S APARTMENT</p><p>GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON D.C.</p><p>MONDAY, 6:30 PM</p><p> </p><p>Mulder’s nausea had dissipated on the drive back, but his humiliation certainly hadn’t. He’d apologized profusely and repeatedly for making Scully look bad in front of the students and although she had done everything she could to ease his worry, she could tell the entire ordeal had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.</p><p>And now she was forcing him to attend a Scully family event.</p><p>She knew Mulder hated black tie affairs. He’d told her before that they’d always struck him as fake; a bunch of people acting like people they weren’t, endless rounds of unnecessary and exhausting small talk. They had no choice but to attend, but she knew he was probably dreading this evening more than he’d dreaded that autopsy.</p><p>They’d agreed to meet at her apartment and get dressed there, as Scully didn’t trust Mulder to adequately achieve her desired level of presentability. Mulder was getting dressed in her bathroom, and that was how she found herself standing in her own bedroom in underwear looking at his tux, which was laid out on her bed. He’d told her that morning exactly where to find it, and she’d pulled it out from the far right side of his closet, enclosed in a black garment bag. </p><p>She’d seen him wear it so rarely, she tried to remember the last time. Was it really all those years ago, that night she’d seen him dancing with Phoebe Green? She felt a completely unjustified flutter of jealousy now that she hadn’t felt then. At the time, she was more focused on the very real possibility of Phoebe Green distracting Mulder from the case. Now, however, she thought of something different: his arms at the Englishwoman’s waist, their bodies swaying slowly, their lips pressed together. She’d never pictured Fox Mulder pursuing a social life until that moment. He’d always been so determined, so focused on work. It was jarring at the time to think of him being so focused on some woman.</p><p>She wondered now if he could ever be that focused on her.</p><p>She donned the tux, realizing there was no way in hell she would be able to tie the bow tie by herself, and left it dangling around her neck. In her inner jacket pocket Mulder’s cell phone remained on vibrate, and she patted it, sending a prayer up to God that his source would call. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, she headed for the bedroom door. Before she got there she stopped to take a look at herself in the mirror, unavoidably thinking <em> why does Mulder have to be so goddamn good looking? </em> </p><p>When she entered the living room and saw him, her jaw dropped. </p><p>Mulder really must have dug deep in her closet, for he’d chosen a tiny black dress with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline she barely recognized; one she’d never had the courage to wear outside of a dressing room, let alone to her mother’s house. He grinned and lifted an eyebrow.</p><p>“You clean up good, Scully,” he said. “How come I’ve never seen you wear this?”</p><p>“Mulder, take that off!” she snapped.</p><p>He shrugged. “If you insist.” He made a big show of turning around to reveal the zipper was still completely down. He wasn’t even wearing proper undergarments.</p><p>“Wait, stop!” She found herself moving towards him, zipping up the dress to cover her own bare back. It was a weird sensation. “I just… I can’t wear this to my mother’s house.”</p><p>“Why the hell not?”</p><p>She sighed. The dress wasn’t inappropriate, really, not by any stretch. She was just terrified to wear it. She would be noticed in this dress, and she wasn’t used to being noticed. “It’s just… too much.”</p><p>“You’re wrong, Scully,” he said. “And you know how much I love telling you that.”</p><p>She smiled in spite of herself, the entire situation much more humorous than it should be. “You’re not even wearing a bra, Mulder.” </p><p>“I didn’t think I was supposed to,” he said defensively. “The little straps would show, wouldn’t they?”</p><p>“I have strapless ones,” she said quietly, suppressing an amused chuckle, then realized they were actually having a conversation about her underwear and backtracked quickly. “Never mind. It’s fine.” The prospects of either making him change entirely or helping him find a strapless bra to wear were both terrible, so she made a decision to just let him wear the dress. Besides… he was right. It did look great on her. </p><p>As she finished zipping him up she noticed, much to her embarrassment, she hadn’t even removed the tags.</p><p>“Hang on, I need to cut these off,” she said, and went to her kitchen for scissors.</p><p>“I noticed,” Mulder said as he followed her. “Why haven’t you ever worn this before?”</p><p>She shrugged as she spun him around and ducked down a bit to get to the tags. “Just… haven’t really had the occasion to,” she said. She didn’t feel like telling him she’d bought it to wear on a hot date sometime, knowing full well that would probably never happen, and it certainly hadn’t.</p><p>Mulder turned around to face her, and she craned her neck to look down at him. She was slowly getting used to having to do that. “Because of me?” he guessed softly. “Because of the X-Files?”</p><p>“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, even though that was exactly what she’d meant.</p><p>He nodded, appearing slightly uncomfortable. “Your ‘normal’ life, huh?”</p><p>“Mulder.” She reached out to take his hand, her own, and squeezed it. “I wouldn’t be doing this job if I didn’t want to. Okay?”</p><p>He nodded, appearing satisfied. “Okay. Although promise me, when we figure out how to switch back, you’ll let me take you out in this dress sometime.”</p><p>His offer took her by surprise. Was he… asking her out on a date? Sort of? She could never tell anymore when he was just being Mulder or actually flirting with her in a real, purposeful way.</p><p>“Deal,” she smiled, because in any event, she had every intention of finding out.</p><p>She looked at him for a moment, tried to find him in her own expression and somehow, some way, she really could. When she looked into his eyes, although she knew they were a familiar blue, for some reason she saw hazel. She saw Mulder.</p><p>Before the moment could get too awkward, she cleared her throat and held out the dangling bow tie from either side of her neck. “Can you help me out with this, please?”</p><p>“Oh, I just thought this was a new look you were going for,” he grinned, taking the tie in his hands. He began to tie it, and she watched him as he did, his face morphing into slight confusion. “Huh. I’ve... never done it from this angle before.” He tried again, no success. “I need you to turn around,” he said. “I can’t do it this way.”</p><p>Wordlessly, she spun around, but her new height proved to be a problem. He gripped her by the shoulders and began to walk her into the bedroom, standing her in front of the wardrobe mirror by her bed. He climbed up onto the bed behind her and tried again, this time from a more favorable height. </p><p>As he took the bowtie in his hands and began to work it into a knot, she was very aware he’d brought his face right up next to her cheek, and he worked silently for a few moments, breathing quietly into her ear: around, over and through, making the perfect knot. At one point she inhaled slightly when his finger brushed against her neck, and hoped he hadn’t noticed.</p><p>She glanced into the mirror, and though her mind knew the roles were reversed, her eyes saw Scully with her arms wrapped around Mulder, tying his bowtie. The image nearly took her breath away. They looked so… domestic together. Comfortable.</p><p>
  <em> Sexy. </em>
</p><p>“There you go,” he said quietly, finishing. He made no attempt to move away from her.</p><p>“Thanks,” she replied, in an even softer tone.</p><p>They both stared into the mirror intently as if they couldn’t take their respective gazes off one another; which was nothing new, but the situation itself was unique. She noticed Mulder’s eyes locked onto his own exposed cleavage.</p><p>“Eyes up, Agent Mulder,” she smirked, and she watched his cheeks flush with telltale embarrassment.</p><p>“Sorry.” He averted his eyes. “It’s not my fault I look so incredible.”</p><p>She smiled, glancing at the image of Mulder in a tux reflected back at her. “I don’t look so bad myself.”</p><p>He slid off the bed and scratched the back of his neck in a very Mulderish way, which she found highly amusing as he stood there in her body dressed to the nines.</p><p>“Hang on a second,” she said suddenly, darting into the bathroom. She located some mascara and a tube of lip gloss, applying both to his face before he even had a chance to protest.</p><p>She looked at Mulder’s watch and noted the time: they’d better hurry. Arriving at her mother’s late would not only earn her an hour’s worth of stink-eye, it would draw even more attention to the two of them, attention she was trying to avoid tonight. </p><p>“We’d better get going,” she said, breaking the tension.</p><p>He nodded. “Sure thing. But before we do, I’m going to need your help showing me how to walk in these heels.”</p><p>
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</p><p>MARGARET SCULLY’S HOUSE</p><p>ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND</p><p>7:30 PM (sharp)</p><p>
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</p><p>Mulder had always told her, in somewhat of a joking manner, that her brother hated him. She never really knew how much until she arrived at her mother’s doorstep in Mulder’s own skin.</p><p>“Dana, you made it!’ her mother cooed, pulling Mulder into a tight hug. She caught Scully’s eye over his shoulder and Scully was surprised to see her mother was probably more delighted to see ‘Mulder’ than her own daughter.</p><p>“Fox!” she cried, releasing Mulder and making her way over. She pulled Scully into a hug as well. “It’s so good of you to come,” she whispered rather intimately into her ear.</p><p>“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Scully,” she returned politely, not really knowing how polite Mulder would be in such a situation but figuring the more she could make her family like him the better.</p><p>Her mother ushered them both in, the first test passed, but when Scully saw the sheer number of people littering the living room of her mother’s house she inwardly panicked.</p><p>What were they thinking? Why had they come? One more missed family event wouldn’t have made much of a difference, would it?</p><p>She considered making an excuse and getting them both the hell out of there, but then she saw Bill across the room in his new Commander stripe and felt a stirring of pride. He looked like her father, Ahab reborn in a way, and despite everything else she was really proud of him. She gave him a warm smile as they approached, momentarily forgetting herself, but the smile was not returned. </p><p>It was at this moment she realized just how deeply the truth of Mulder’s claims took root.</p><p>Her brother glowered at her, a glare that felt somewhat familiar, and it took her a moment to place it- it had been some time- but she realized where she’d seen it before: senior year, Marcus Paxton, when her mother had sent a sleep rumpled Bill to retrieve the group of prom night troublemakers from the fire station. Bill had been in town for her graduation and was less than pleased to discover she’d been more interested in losing her virginity than preparing for college.</p><p>Different situations, yes, but somehow the glare was the same- there was no mistaking the <em> stay away from my sister </em>subtext that anyone with eyes could have noticed. </p><p>She wondered, quite frankly, why she hadn’t noticed it before.</p><p>“Good luck,” Mulder teased gently into her ear as her mother guided them both towards Bill. He placed his hand on the small of Scully’s back, which was something she was quite used to but it felt odd in their current reversal, so she shifted away from his touch.</p><p>Bill’s glare shifted admirably as he turned his attention to his little sister, or at least who he thought was his little sister, and Scully was somewhat relieved to have his eyes off her even for a second.</p><p>“Hi, Dana,” he said warmly, hugging Mulder. Scully nearly had to cover her mouth to keep herself from laughing at the awkward look on Mulder’s face.</p><p>“Congratulations,” Mulder said. “Dad would be proud.”</p><p>Scully was stunned, touched at Mulder’s thoughtfulness; how effortlessly he seemed to be playing this role. He was typically rather quiet and awkward around her family. She wondered if the simple freedom of not being ‘Spooky Mulder’ in this space for once was giving him confidence.</p><p>“Thanks for coming,” Bill said, his eyes shifting back over to her once again. It was almost humorous how he was unable to keep a look of utter disdain off his face whenever he was looking at ‘Mulder.’ </p><p>“I see you brought your partner,” he said, practically spitting the word.</p><p>Before Scully could think of how to respond, Mulder sidled up next to her and spoke instead, as Scully. “Mulder said he didn’t want to intrude, but I told him you’d be glad to have him here for your special night, right, Bill?”</p><p>“Of course he is,” her mother interjected, putting an end to the tense exchange. She took Mulder’s arm and began pulling him away from Bill. “Now come on, Dana, I need to introduce you to some people.”</p><p>Mulder threw a glance over his shoulder at her, helplessly, and mouthed <em> sorry. </em>She knew he probably didn’t want her to spend any more time with her brother than absolutely necessary, but fate seemed to have other plans.</p><p>“So… no appointments with any space aliens today, Mr. Mulder?” Bill said snidely.</p><p><em> God, what a dick</em>, Scully thought. She’d always thought her brother a bit serious and at times callous, but this behavior was very childish and unbecoming. She didn’t like it at all.</p><p>“Finished for the day,” she replied. “They all climbed aboard the mothership.”</p><p>It seemed like something Mulder might say. Bill cracked a tiny smile, ever so tiny, and nodded. He looked around uncomfortably, perhaps hoping there was someone else to talk to, but kept talking to her for now.</p><p>“I heard about your… injury,” he said. The long list of injuries she and Mulder had both suffered flashed through her mind but the only one Bill could be referring to was Mulder’s recent brush with death when the Smoking Man had sliced into his brain. Bill obviously knew very few of the details, but Scully was grateful he was at least attempting to be polite now, after breaking the ice. “Glad to see you’re doing well.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she replied. And, for good measure, “Your sister’s been taking good care of me.”</p><p>Bill nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll bet,” he grumbled, and she realized her words might have come out more suggestively than she’d intended.</p><p>“No, I don’t mean-” she began, but then realized they’d abruptly spun out into territory she was not comfortable discussing with her brother at all, let alone disguised as the man she was actually in love with. “I just mean she’s been very helpful, that’s all.”</p><p>Bill pegged her with the same glare he’d worn upon their arrival. Sizing her up, he suddenly said something completely unexpected.</p><p>“What exactly are your intentions with Dana, Mr. Mulder?”</p><p>Her mouth opened slightly, shocked at his blatant grilling of Mulder as if he were some suitor here to win her affections. “Er-”</p><p>“Because my sister has been through a lot, as you know. If you’re just jerking her around I think you ought to reconsider your actions.”</p><p>Scully just stared at him. Did Bill think she and Mulder were already in some kind of romantic relationship? What exactly did her family think about them?</p><p>“I don’t…” she trailed off, because she had no clue how to respond to this question in anyone’s body. Bill stared, and she knew he was actually expecting an answer. </p><p>“Thought so,” he gritted. He began to walk away but Scully reached out and stopped him by grabbing his arm.</p><p>“Wait,” she said. “You have the wrong idea. Mulder-” she corrected herself, “I’m not jerking her around. I care about your sister a lot, okay?” </p><p>As she heard the words come out of her own mouth in Mulder’s voice she’d never wished for anything to be more true. She knew Mulder cared for her, she’d always known, but everything was so frustrating lately. He wasn’t jerking her around, exactly, but he had been sending her mixed signals: their interrupted moment in his hallway all those months back, and his subsequent decision not to discuss any of it. Not to mention all that Diana Fowley business. But she knew she was partially to blame. They’d been sending each other mixed signals their entire partnership. She was so confused already, and the added wrinkle of now finding herself in a position to manufacture Mulder’s feelings about her in front of her brother was just too much for her to take.</p><p>Bill clenched his teeth. “I just don’t want her to get hurt, that’s all,” he declared. “Any more than she already has.”</p><p>Scully felt a small surge of affection at this; sure, Bill disliked Mulder immensely, but his heart was in the right place. She wondered if there was anything Mulder could say to gain some of his trust.</p><p>“I would never do anything to hurt Scully,” she said clearly and definitively. “Ever.” It was the first thing she’d said, while posing as Mulder, she was one hundred percent sure was his absolute truth. She hoped it sounded as sincere to her brother. </p><p>Luckily, Bill’s glare faded just enough for her to think she’d gotten through to him. He gave her a slight nod, a temporary truce, perhaps. </p><p>“I hope that’s true,” he said. </p><p>She drew her lips into a thin line, nodded, then excused herself from his presence. </p><p>Scully was making her way through the kitchen, avoiding curious looks from her mother’s friends, when she nearly jumped at Mulder’s cell phone vibrating inside her pocket. She ducked into an empty bedroom and answered it.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>There was an extended silence, then: <em> “Hi, Marty. It’s me, Red. It’s been a long, long time. I’ve been so lonely without hearing your sexy voice.” </em></p><p>Scully felt her mouth go dry for just a moment, wondering what she was supposed to say to this woman Mulder was apparently seeing, when ‘Red’ put her out of her misery.</p><p>
  <em> “...And because I’ve missed you so much, we’ve lowered our rates to just 90 cents a minute, $4.99 for the first minute, all long distance rates apply. Do give me a call, lover-man. I'll be waiting.” </em>
</p><p>Scully rolled her eyes to the ceiling and hung up the phone. </p><p>Sighing, she pushed through the back door, onto the patio. She needed to get some fresh air. Apparently Mulder had needed the same, for she saw him, or rather, herself, about ten feet away, sitting alone in a wicker chair. She wandered over to him, tucking the phone back inside her pocket.</p><p>“That didn’t take very long, did it?” she asked him with a small grin, leaning against the railing.</p><p>He chuckled softly. “It’s fine, I just had to get some air.”</p><p>She nodded, turning her attention away from him and out towards the backyard. After a moment, Mulder spoke again, gesturing at her pocket.</p><p>“Did you get any-”</p><p>“No,” she cut him off, looking at the floor in slight embarrassment. “No calls.”</p><p>He nodded, chastened. “Well, your mom introduced me to a group of women who then proceeded to ask me what my handsome boyfriend’s name was.”</p><p>She felt a hot flush spread over her face, and wondered if he noticed; if perhaps Mulder wore his embarrassment as easily on his face as she did. “Oh.” They were quiet for a moment. “What… what did you say?”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t have to say anything, as your mother was more than happy to set them straight.”</p><p>Scully smiled. “She’s used to it.” His face fell a bit, and she caught herself. “I just mean… you know. People talk. ‘People’ meaning my mother.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” He looked genuinely curious. “What does she talk about?”</p><p>Scully bit her lip, Mulder’s bottom lip, and the action felt oddly erotic. It was so weird to have the very lip she’d fantasized about for years at her own disposal. “Well, explaining to others about… us.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” he grinned. “Do we require explanation?”</p><p>He was teasing her, more of the same behavior he’d been exhibiting lately: flirting. Blatantly.</p><p>She shrugged. “Sometimes, I suppose, we do,” she admitted. </p><p><em> Sometimes I need us explained to myself</em>.</p><p>“How exactly does she explain us, Scully?” he said slowly, as he got up out of his chair and began to make his way towards her. He was getting better at walking on heels, she noted.</p><p>“That you and I just work together,” she said. “And nothing more.”</p><p>She was well aware that the mood was shifting between them now; that thing that happened from time to time when she wanted nothing more than to grab him by his ugly tie and pull him to her lips. Only there was no tie tonight. There was just <em> Scully</em>, in her sexiest black dress, approaching her slowly.</p><p>“Nothing, huh?” he asked, finally reaching her, and she looked down at him once again, further illustrating the strangeness of this circumstance. He was her, and she was him, but she still somehow suspected that in this moment they both wanted the same thing. Each other.</p><p>“I don’t think it’s nothing, Scully,” he whispered. </p><p>She looked into eyes that were far too familiar, wishing she could look into his instead, but somehow finding him inside them all the same. Then he was leaning in, craning his neck up, reaching his hand out to touch her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone softly. He grinned a little, perhaps reacting to touching his own scratchy cheek as opposed to her soft one. </p><p>She’d been stupid with him plenty of times before, but even she knew he was about to kiss her. It felt exactly like it had a couple of years ago in his Alexandria apartment hallway, only the difference this time - and it was admittedly a big one - was that their roles were reversed.</p><p>She wasn’t sure what it would feel like to kiss Mulder while he looked like her; would it even feel right? Would it be like kissing him at all? Or would it just be like kissing herself? </p><p>She reached out to take his other hand but it dangled far lower than she anticipated.<em> Jesus, I’m short. </em> Instead, her hand brushed his forearm and she grabbed it, squeezing.</p><p>His eyes suddenly widened at her touch, and he recoiled slightly.</p><p>“Mulder?” she asked, slightly alarmed. “What is it?”</p><p>He looked down at her hand squeezing his forearm, then back up at her. He took his other hand away from her face. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. He looked frustrated with himself, probably for ruining their moment but also because of whatever had stopped him in the first place. “I just had the weirdest sensation of déjà vu.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>He looked pained, as if whatever just happened had affected him deeply. “We were standing like this. You grabbed my arm, just like that. Except… I felt this terrible sadness. It was like... hopelessness. Despair.”</p><p>She shook her head, pulling away, the moment lost. “What do you think it was?”</p><p>He looked thoughtfully tortured. “I don’t know.”</p><p>She looked down at him again, hoping this interruption could be ignored and maybe they could go back to what they were doing, but an even more unwelcome interruption from the doorway dashed her hopes to pieces.</p><p>“Fox? Dana? Are you out here?”</p><p>Her mother peeked her head around the corner, taking in the highly suggestive position they were in: the two of them, standing closely, talking quietly. She narrowed her eyes knowingly. “Dinner’s about to be served, you two. Come in when you’re ready.” The door swung shut behind her.</p><p>Scully looked down at Mulder again. “You’re right, you know. Bill really does hate you.”</p><p>“See?” he replied, seemingly vindicated. “I told you.”</p><p>She sighed. “He’s just being an overprotective older brother, Mulder,” she explained.</p><p>“Oh, I know he is,” Mulder replied. “I only said he hated me. I never said I didn’t get it.” </p><p>He smiled at her, but there was sadness in his eyes. It was a specific look he got whenever he thought about Samantha, and she recognized it, even in eyes that weren’t his own.</p><p>She reached out to take his hand, squeezed it. “Let’s go eat,” she suggested. “Then we can make a graceful departure.”</p><p>“From this party, at least,” he replied.</p><p>He was right. There was no blinking green exit sign they could follow to end their current predicament and as every hour passed, she was more and more concerned there never would be. </p><p>She gestured for him to lead the way, which he did. When they went through that door, he would be Scully again, and she would be Mulder. And when she followed him into the kitchen it truly struck her: the very real possibility that she might just be Fox Mulder forever.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
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</p><p>Dinner at her mother’s went as smoothly as they could have hoped, and thankfully no one seemed to intuit that anything was amiss. As she and Mulder said their goodbyes, she noticed her mother leaning into Mulder’s ear to whisper something to her “daughter,” and while giving her a hug, Maggie did the same.</p><p>“I’m so glad Dana brought you, Fox,” she said quietly. “It’s so lovely to see the two of you together like this.”</p><p>
  <em> Like this? Like what?  </em>
</p><p>“Thank you for having me,” she mumbled back, but her mother’s words took root inside her. <em> Like this. </em>Surely her mother meant exactly what she thought she meant; that she’d enjoyed seeing them as a couple. In her home. </p><p>Like two normal people.</p><p>Scully had enjoyed it too, more than she’d ever want Mulder to know.</p><p>Her mind was so busy that she barely glanced at him the entire drive home. They’d been unable to recreate the moment that had been interrupted earlier and while she certainly wanted to, it felt so strange to even attempt to take that step while in their current state.</p><p>She wanted him badly, but mostly she just wanted out of him.</p><p>They pulled up to his apartment, and stared at each other. Mulder spoke first. “I think you should stay at my place again, Scully,” he said. “I know you want to go home and I don’t blame you but it’s probably easier this way. All my clothes are here, and…”</p><p>Scully nodded. She was too tired to argue, even if she thought he was wrong, which she didn’t. “Yeah, I think you’re probably right. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She sighed heavily. “Say hi to my tub for me.”</p><p>“I’m actually going to head back to the office tonight,” he said suddenly. “Finish up that paperwork. Keep Skinner off our collective asses.”</p><p>“Oh,” she replied. “Okay.” She smiled ruefully at his dress. “You might want to swing by my place first anyway, unless you think that’s appropriate work attire.”</p><p>He looked down sheepishly, almost as if he’d forgotten he was wearing a cocktail dress. “Ah. Right.”</p><p>He looked back up at her, and the moment hung between them heavily, as if something might happen the way it normally would if this were a date between any two other people. But it didn’t.</p><p>“G’night, Scully,” he said, and just like that, their evening was over. She was Mulder, headed home to his apartment, and he was Scully, headed… back to the office, apparently. </p><p>She hadn’t been there more than two minutes when she heard a loud rap at the door. Before she could even get to it, it burst open, and three familiar faces filed in.</p><p>Langly ambled through first, plunking a laptop down on Mulder’s desk, barely casting a glance her way. Byers nodded in greeting and followed him, and Frohike took up the rear.</p><p>“Hey, Mulder,” Frohike said. </p><p>“Uh… hi, Melvin,” she said haltingly.</p><p>He eyed her curiously. “Nice tux. You going out somewhere?”</p><p>She blinked at him. “It’s almost midnight.”</p><p>“Sorry, Mulder,” Byers interjected. “But you really need to hear this.”</p><p><em> What the hell is this? </em>she wondered. Did the Gunmen make a habit of bursting into Mulder’s apartment in the middle of the night to talk shop without her? Not that she was complaining; if the choice was being here for this and being at home in bed in a typical scenario, she’d take the latter. She sighed, still longing for her bathtub. She inwardly groaned at the prospect of attempting to relax in Mulder’s draughty, limescaled shower.</p><p>“Okay, but just… make it quick, please,” she said, sinking down into Mulder’s couch. “I’m exhausted.”</p><p>Langly pounded away at the keyboard, spouting off about some UFO sightings or something she would anticipate hearing from him while rolling her eyes behind his back. But this time she wasn’t in the mood to engage at all. </p><p>“How was it out at Dreamland, Mulder?” Byers asked.</p><p>“It was, uh… well, we didn’t really get very far, I’m afraid,” she said.</p><p>“So the divine Agent Scully joined you?” Frohike asked, leaning down to look her directly in the face.</p><p>“Um. Yes, she did,” Scully replied, taken off guard.</p><p>“When are you gonna start showering that woman with all the attention she deserves?” Frohike asked earnestly. In fact, she’d never seen him so earnest. Not since that time he came to her apartment to share a drink with her late one night when Mulder had been presumed dead.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” she asked, treading carefully. She hadn’t wanted to get drawn into a conversation at all, but this she had to hear.</p><p>Byers rolled his eyes. “Mulder, it’s been seven years. You haven’t so much as kissed her.”</p><p>Her mouth turned dry, <em> Mulder’s mouth,</em> she thought. How much had Mulder shared with his friends about the two of them? How much, exactly, did Mulder feel for her?</p><p>“Yes, I have!” she said indignantly, taking on the burden of shame that was directed at her partner. She felt defensive, and oddly embarrassed; not entirely on Mulder’s behalf, but for both of them. It was painfully obvious to her in this moment how pathetically slow their progress appeared to outsiders. But she regretted the words instantly. All six eyes of the Gunmen were now trained on her, spellbound. </p><p>“You what?” Byers asked.</p><p>“You kissed Scully?” Frohike said, stuck somewhere between utterly impressed and utterly offended. </p><p>“I mean-” she sputtered. “Yes, I guess so? I don’t know if it even counted, actually.”</p><p>She thought about that New Year’s kiss all the time: questioning what it meant, whether or not it meant anything. Mulder had chosen perhaps the only night in existence to plant one on her that could simultaneously mean everything and nothing. It definitely meant everything to her, however uncertain she was of his own intentions.</p><p>But then her mind would drift further back in time, to that charged moment in his hallway, when he’d stopped her from leaving him and making what might have been the biggest mistake of her life. She knew what would have happened if no bee had interfered; she’d fantasized about the ending to that particular story more times than she could count. And now, after what had occurred this evening, it was very hard not to let her mind continue to wander: to his lips, his scent, his eyes, his smile…</p><p>
  <em> His other places… </em>
</p><p>The Gunmen were just staring at her, waiting expectantly. She opened her mouth, then closed it. What had they even asked her about? </p><p>“It was New Year’s Eve, so, you know. It could have meant anything, really,” she said.</p><p>Byers slapped his hand to his face. Langly sighed. Frohike looked enraged. The shorter man walked over to her and stuck a stubby finger in her face. “If you don’t tell that woman how you really feel soon, so help me God…”</p><p>Byers gently pulled his friend back. “Easy, Frohike,” he said. “I’m sure it’s… complicated. Right, Mulder?”</p><p>Scully nodded absently, her mind reeling. She was dying to know more but didn’t want to push it, and didn’t even know how to approach it without coming across like a lunatic.</p><p>Frohike leaned over to ask, “What was it like, huh? Kissing Scully?”</p><p>“Mulder, you need to come look at this,” Langly interrupted, as Byers pulled Frohike away from her. Scully made her way over to the laptop, figuring that the quicker she indulged the Gunmen the quicker they would leave and she could go to bed.</p><p>“You know those Russian satellites that picked up the aerial images of Area 51?” he asked. “Well, I was able to hack into the source and download some of the data they acquired. We got access to some highly classified technology. Amazing stuff out there, Mulder. Incredible.”</p><p>“Yeah, I can only imagine,” Scully replied somewhat regretfully.</p><p>“We picked up a transmission late last night, there was some kind of incident with one of their machines. They’re calling it a malfunction.” Langly emphasized the word with air quotes. “Did you guys notice anything weird while you were there? See anything unusual?”</p><p>Scully’s stomach dropped. “Umm… I’m not sure, actually. It was all pretty... unusual.” On a hunch that was perhaps more suitable to Mulder, she pressed a bit. “So, uh… did you happen to read anything about people... swapping bodies?”</p><p>Langly looked confused. Byers laughed. “You mean like on Star Trek?”</p><p>Scully nodded. “Yeah, exactly like on Star Trek.”</p><p>“Why are you asking?” Frohike asked curiously. </p><p>“Oh, no reason,” she backtracked, suddenly aware there were six very intrigued eyes looking at her again. “Would be kinda cool, though, huh? Beam me up, Scotty?”</p><p>Langly grinned, satisfied, and she was pleased with her own impression of Mulder. </p><p>After a couple more minutes, Langly ejected something out of the side of Mulder’s laptop and stood up to leave. They said their goodbyes and as they headed towards the front door, Langly dropped the object into the pocket of Mulder’s trench coat, which was hanging on the coat rack. “Don’t lose this,” he said. “Some awesome shit on there. Check it out when you can.”</p><p>“What is that?” Scully asked curiously.</p><p>“It’s called a thumb drive, they aren’t commercially available yet but I got a couple from one of my contacts in Singapore. It holds<em> a half a gig</em>!” he added excitedly.</p><p>“Uh huh,” Scully nodded patronizingly, no idea what he was on about. “Thanks.”</p><p>After the Gunmen had taken their leave, Scully rifled through Mulder’s drawers to find something more comfortable to put on, trying hard not to think about any rifling of his own he’d surely done back at her apartment.</p><p>She stripped his tux off, everything down to his underwear, and settled on a gray T-shirt she found folded in one of his dresser drawers. As she put it on the scent of him overwhelmed her, and to distract herself she went into his bathroom to brush her teeth. </p><p>When she’d finished, she had nothing else to do but get some sleep, so she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, her thoughts turning to earlier in the evening at her mother’s house: to the kiss they’d nearly shared, then to the one they’d actually shared at that fateful stroke of midnight. However chaste and reserved the kiss had felt at the time, it had definitely been a huge step for them. But she wasn’t really sure in which direction. A shift in their relationship could have changed everything, could have somehow thrown their precious dynamic completely out of whack. </p><p>
  <em> The world didn’t end. </em>
</p><p>Those words, however, had mirrored her own thoughts; that it hadn’t. He’d smiled, and she’d smiled back, and while there was a feeling of relief at the long-awaited kiss, she’d also felt anxiousness: the anxiousness of wanting more, and knowing she would probably have to be the one to go after it. Whether he’d intended to or not, he’d put the ball in her court. She’d been too terrified to push it any further that night, and every night that passed since had led them further and further away from that reality, from that moment, the moment everything felt right and perfect and possible.</p><p>
  <em> Perfect.  </em>
</p><p>She thought then of his lips, how soft and pliant they'd been as he sweetly pressed them to hers, not daring to go too far, probably expecting a backhand or right hook that never came. </p><p>She brought her hand up to those very lips, absently dragging a fingertip across the surface of the bottom one, thinking how strange it was that she’d never been so close to them before in her life and yet unable to do anything about it even if she wanted to.</p><p>She thought about how she’d pulled away slowly, looking into his eyes, and then wishing she hadn’t. Wishing they’d stayed connected, kissing longer, slowly at first, then with the passion she’d kept repressed for so many years. In her fantasy he would bring his hand behind the back of her head and hold her close as their tongues danced and their bodies pressed together, and she would feel his-</p><p><em> Oh, God. </em> </p><p>Her eyes, which she hadn’t realized had closed, suddenly flew open. Something was going on inside her boxers, <em> Mulder’s boxers</em>, and while the feeling was inherently familiar, the precise sensation was new and very different. </p><p>She squeezed her eyes shut and willed it away, but her arousal was strong, probably stronger than she’d ever experienced before. The erection between her legs grew harder, and she could feel it practically beckoning her to touch it, begging her to give it some attention. </p><p><em> Nope. Not going to happen</em>, she told herself firmly, getting out of bed. It would go away if she ignored it, surely. She got out of his bed and wandered into the kitchen, opening cabinets to look for a glass for some water. Every time she leaned into the counter she felt the distinct presence of something she was definitely not used to. When she finally located a glass, she dared to glance down.</p><p>It was not going away. </p><p>She filled the glass and chugged it nervously. Sweat was now beading at her brow in her efforts to fight the sensation. It was fairly easy in her own body to will away arousal, but how the hell was she supposed to deal with this… <em> thing </em> between her legs?</p><p>She set the glass down and as she turned to leave the kitchen, her hard-on bumped against the fridge. It kind of hurt, but mostly just made her even hornier. Did Mulder ever have this problem, she wondered? Surely he was used to his own erection but she’d never properly appreciated the spatial awareness required to navigate a room while sporting one.</p><p>The thought of Mulder bumbling around his kitchen with a huge erection knocking various things over should probably have been funny, but right now all she could do was imagine the Mulder-with-an-erection part, and that precise thought was doing nothing to remedy her current situation.</p><p>She went back into his bedroom, flopped back down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, squeezing her eyes shut. Her first option was disappearing as rapidly as the erection between her legs was hardening, and while she didn’t want to even entertain the thought, another option was presenting itself.</p><p>
  <em> Could she? </em>
</p><p><em> It’s just a scientific process, a biological imperative</em>, she argued to herself. <em> A primal urge with a natural conclusion. It’s just like sneezing or urinating. You wouldn’t have a problem doing those things while borrowing someone else’s body, would you? </em></p><p>Scully shook her head against the pillow, not quite believing she was actually trying to convince herself to do something she knew she shouldn’t. She saw her mother in her mind, shaking her head in disapproval. Rather horrifyingly, she saw her Catholic priest from when she was a teenager, his arms crossed across his chest, wearing a similar expression. </p><p>Then she saw Mulder himself, who was inexplicably nodding. </p><p>
  <em> Come on, Scully. Where’s your sense of adventure? </em>
</p><p>She made a decision. Her brain screamed at her <em> no, don’t do this, it’s a violation,</em> but her hand didn’t listen as it reached down to find out exactly what it was she was working with. And...</p><p>
  <em> Wow. </em>
</p><p>She couldn’t summon any other word to mind as she wrapped her hand around her new appendage. It was intimidatingly large, and while her mind fought against the morals and ethics of this scenario, she was beginning to experience firsthand the intense power of male arousal, which, in the moment, overshadowed everything else.</p><p>She’d already pushed well beyond her moral compass today, and it wasn’t quite midnight yet. To hell with it, she may as well go for broke.</p><p>She touched herself through his underwear, softly at first. Heat radiated through the fabric and her light touch swiftly became more assertive as she stroked Mulder’s erection from root to tip, feeling it getting harder and harder every second until she absolutely knew she would never sleep until she’d completed the deed. She reached into her underwear and gripped herself firmly, feeling oddly powerful; perhaps it was true what they said about masculine energy. </p><p>She slid her hand up and down, and as she did she couldn’t stop her mind from conjuring an image of Mulder himself, his large hand gripping his cock, stroking himself as his eyes bore into hers. She wondered if it mattered whether she thought about what got her off, or thought about what got Mulder off? Would her own fantasies get his body to the point of release? Sexual pleasure was at least 90% mental, she figured, and decided she would think of what turned her on first and go from there.</p><p>It didn’t take long. Any and all previously established guilt flew out the window as she closed her eyes and summoned up one of her typical fantasies: specifically, Mulder’s cock buried deep inside her, growing harder and harder as he fucked her senseless. It was even easier to imagine it with his actual cock in her hand and she was absolutely amazed at how quickly she could feel an orgasm approaching.</p><p><em> Jesus, men have this easy</em>. </p><p>Before she could consider removing the shirt she was wearing or moving this to the bathroom she was climaxing, and the sensation of spurting hotly onto her own stomach was almost too much for her to handle. </p><p>She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the shame of having done this at all, but as she lay there breathing heavily, holding Mulder’s softening penis in her hand, she could only feel immense relief, and a strange comfort at the intimacy they had, in a way, just shared.</p><p>She tucked herself back into her boxers and sat up, removing the stained shirt. She took it into the bathroom and rinsed out the spots, throwing it over the shower curtain rod. Then she looked at herself in the mirror, at Mulder’s half-naked physique. Looking directly into his eyes felt like she was facing the music after what she’d just done.</p><p>His hair was mussed, his cheeks were flushed. Even though she knew she was only looking at herself, she fell in love with him a little bit more. She smiled at the thought, <em> Mulder’s smile</em>. He looked happy and satisfied, because she was happy and satisfied, and that was reassuring. </p><p>She turned and went back into his bedroom. When she laid back down, she dropped off almost instantly to sleep.</p><p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING</p><p>WASHINGTON, D.C</p><p> </p><p>Finishing up their outstanding paperwork was his primary motivator for returning to the office; he hadn’t lied to Scully about that. After changing briefly at her place, he’d left immediately. But Mulder also sought comfort. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel comfortable at her apartment; on the contrary, he enjoyed being surrounded by all things Scully very much. It just felt so intimate; like he didn’t belong there without her. </p><p>Mulder tried to lose himself in work but his thoughts kept drifting to her. He realized he was becoming rather impressed with how Scully was handling herself, and wondered if she was actually as comfortable in his body as she seemed to be. He, on the other hand, was still finding it incredibly difficult to function knowing how close he was to Scully’s... assets. </p><p>He’d tried hard, over the years, to ignore that aspect of her. He’d always figured she preferred it that way; any attention he’d ever given to her appearance was typically met with indifference or even slight annoyance. But it was difficult not to notice how gorgeous she was, even before he’d admitted to himself his more-than-partnerly feelings. Now, it was damn near impossible. Her skin, which was now his own, was so smooth, and she always smelled so good. He was becoming far more intimately acquainted with her body than he knew he had a right to.</p><p>Then… last night. The heated moment they’d shared at her mother’s house hadn’t been simply imagined. He knew there was something there, he’d known it for years. Neither of them seemed to have the courage to push forward, and he realized now it was probably his own fault. He’d kissed her, sure, but it was at midnight on New Year’s Eve. He hadn’t planned it that way, and while it had meant everything to him, what if she didn’t feel the same?</p><p>What if it had meant nothing to her? </p><p>The mere thought made his heart ache. She hadn’t reciprocated since, not really, and now they were stuck in this impossible situation. What if they never switched back? What if they were stuck this way forever?</p><p>What if she never knew the way he really felt about her?</p><p>After several hours had gone by and the janitor had passed through, Mulder looked at the clock. It was 4:23 AM. Out of force of habit, and momentarily forgetting about his current physical identity, he put in one of his adult videos. Mulder occasionally indulged in this type of entertainment for its intended purpose, but on nights like tonight, he simply wanted comfort. So he bunched up Scully’s jacket for a pillow, laid his head on the desk, and allowed the sounds of other peoples’ pleasure to lull him off predictably into slumber. </p><p>
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</p><p>***</p><p>
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</p><p>“Agent?”</p><p>A gruff voice woke him and he lifted his head off the desk, mumbling “Scully…?” </p><p>He looked up into the very confused face of A.D. Skinner.</p><p>“Oh, she’s… I mean, I’m…” </p><p>Skinner eyed ‘Scully’ curiously, but Mulder passed this momentary flub off as disorientation upon waking. “Um… good morning, sir,” he finished weakly.</p><p>His boss’s eyes darted to the writhing naked couple on the screen across the room. Mulder quickly grabbed the remote and shut off the television.</p><p>“Sorry, one of Agent Mulder’s… tapes… must have found its way in there. Sir.”</p><p>Skinner looked unconvinced. “Right.” He looked around, then back at the rumpled agent hastily rubbing dried drool off the desk. “Did you sleep here last night, Agent Scully?”</p><p>“Yes, I had… some work to finish up, and I guess I just lost track of time, you know.” Skinner looked suspicious. “There was a family emergency yesterday and, well…” as Mulder trailed off, his boss still looked perplexed. “They’re fumigating my apartment,” he finally tried.</p><p>“Where’s Agent Mulder?”</p><p>He looked around. “I’m… not sure, actually.”</p><p>Mulder watched the wheels at work in Skinner’s mind as he apparently attempted to figure out what was going on with the most confounding pair of agents under his watch.</p><p>“I heard there was some trouble yesterday at Quantico, is everything all right?” Skinner asked.</p><p><em> Oof. </em>The autopsy. Mulder scrambled for an excuse.</p><p>“Yes, I was… taken ill, sir.”</p><p>“Are you feeling better now?” Skinner asked, and although Mulder knew instinctively the question would be laced with annoyance when directed at him under normal circumstances, in this case, Skinner appeared genuinely concerned.</p><p>“Yes, I am. Thank you.”</p><p>“I just came down to let you know I got a call yesterday from the Pentagon. Someone who said you and Agent Mulder were caught on surveillance trespassing on their property in Groom Lake, Nevada.”</p><p>Mulder stood up, wide awake now. “We weren’t trespassing, sir,” he explained. “We were invited.”</p><p>Skinner raised his hands. “I don’t want to know, whatever it is, I think the less I know the better. I told him I’d handle it internally, but I wanted to warn you. If Kersh gets wind of this little side-excursion, you’ll both be in a world of hurt.”</p><p>“Understood, sir.”</p><p>Skinner eyed him warningly. “Clean it up, all right? And fast.”</p><p>Mulder nodded, behaving like Scully would on her most dutiful days. “Will do.”</p><p>Skinner turned to go, but stopped at the door, turning back. “By the way, if you need a place to stay, I have a guest room.”</p><p>Mulder tried very, very hard not to burst out laughing at the clear favoritism their boss was asserting. Rarely had Skinner shown overt concern for Mulder’s well-being in such a situation, let alone invited him to stay at his place. Even after people were actually murdered in his apartment.</p><p>“Thanks sir, I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>Skinner left, and a few moments later Scully showed up, miscalculating her entrance and bumping her large shoulder on the doorframe. She rubbed it with her hand, nodding her head in the direction their boss had left. “Morning. What did Skinner want?”</p><p>Mulder sighed. “Apparently someone at Groom Lake caught us on surveillance,” he told her. “Skinner hasn’t told Kersh, but I’m sure we can’t keep it from him for long.”</p><p>“No calls from your source,” she reported, anticipating him, “although I did have a trio of unexpected visitors.”</p><p>Mulder cocked his head, knowing she must mean the Gunmen. “Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “Do they make a habit of dropping in unannounced like that?”</p><p>Mulder chuckled. “More often than I’d like.” </p><p>She sat down across from him, attempting to tuck her long legs behind his desk. </p><p>“So what did they come over for?” he asked curiously. He wanted to know, but he was more curious about how Scully managed to behave in a manner that hadn’t aroused suspicion from the most paranoid people on the planet.</p><p>“They were actually talking about Area 51. Something about some kind of technology that Langly had hacked into.” </p><p>“I told them we were going out there,” Mulder said. “Technology? You can’t remember anything they said?”</p><p>She shook her head. “I was so exhausted from last night, I should have paid more attention. But I really think we should both talk to them. Together.”</p><p>Mulder leaned forward. “That could lead to a lot of questions, Scully.”</p><p>“It could,” she agreed.</p><p>“Questions I’m not sure we know how to answer.”</p><p>“I certainly don’t.”</p><p>Mulder crossed his arms, touched his bottom lip thoughtfully, tapped the toe of Scully’s shoe against the ground.</p><p>Scully eyed him. “So… what are you thinking?”</p><p>He eyed her right back. “I’m thinking... that you’re right. It’s time we called in some reinforcements.”</p><p>
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</p><p>***</p><p>
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</p><p>The Lone Gunmen rarely had anything but time on their hands, and when ‘Scully’ had called to ask for their help, luckily Frohike had answered. The three of them were standing in the basement office within twenty minutes, guest badges pinned to their shirts.</p><p>“Thanks for coming,” Mulder said to the trio. </p><p>“Anytime, Agent Scully,” Frohike said, and Mulder couldn’t help but notice how his gaze lingered. Frohike’s enormous crush on Scully was no secret to anyone in the room. </p><p>“What exactly is going on?” Langly asked Scully, turning to whom he thought was Mulder. </p><p>Byers narrowed his eyes. “It must be something huge if you couldn’t tell us over the phone.”</p><p>Scully looked at Mulder somewhat helplessly. They hadn’t really come up with a game plan for revealing the truth; while they both knew the Gunmen trusted them, the looks on both of their faces told the perceptive trio something big was going on.</p><p>Scully sunk down into Mulder’s chair and sighed. “Go ahead and tell them,” she said as she looked up at him. “This is your domain anyway.” She crossed her arms and propped her size twelves up onto the desk expectantly.</p><p>Mulder looked at her, then to Frohike, to Byers, to Langly. They all stared at each other in silence for several seconds when Byers finally turned back to Scully and spoke.</p><p>“Mulder?” he prodded gently, looking down at her. Her gaze stayed pinned on Mulder. Byers’ stare followed until he was looking his friend in the eye. “Agent Scully?”</p><p>Mulder closed his eyes and said in a very small voice: “I’m not Scully.”</p><p>Frohike’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Mulder sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When we were out at Dreamland, well… something happened. Something we can’t explain. And now, basically… she’s me and I’m her.”</p><p>Everyone stared at each other for what felt like a very long time. It was like some kind of Mexican standoff where the first one to speak was the one who would give this idea weight. Eventually, Frohike broke the spell.</p><p>“Mulder,” he said directly to Scully, “In what year was the first documented account of a UFO sighting in America?”</p><p>Scully blinked. “Um.”</p><p>Mulder piped up immediately. “1639. Governor of Massachusetts John Winthrop, near the Muddy River.”</p><p>Huge grins spread across all three of the Gunmens’ faces as their heads whipped to stare at an uncharacteristically paranormally-educated Agent Scully. Frohike clasped his hands together loudly, delighted. Byers laughed heartily. Langly muttered, “<em> Wicked! </em>”</p><p>Byers leaned forward towards the desk, eyeing Scully curiously as if this new knowledge would somehow physically change her appearance before his eyes.</p><p>“Amazing,” he said. “So… that’s really you in there, Agent Scully?”</p><p>Scully’s mouth was hanging open. “Wait… really? That’s all you need? You believe him?”</p><p>Frohike shrugged, like, <em> duh </em>.</p><p>Mulder walked around the desk and put his hand on Scully’s shoulder. “It’s okay boys, I, Dana Scully, have realized the error of my ways and have decided to always believe my brilliant and devastatingly handsome partner.” He looked at Scully and smiled widely. “Oh, also, there was <em> definitely </em> a spaceship in Antarctica.”</p><p>Scully caught Mulder’s eye and gave a tight grin. “Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah, actually, I am.”</p><p>Langly muttered, “Wicked!” again.</p><p>“Okay, lovebirds,” Frohike interrupted, slightly irritated. “How exactly did this happen?”</p><p>Mulder took his hand off Scully’s shoulder a bit awkwardly, cleared his throat, and launched into the story, covering everything about their Area 51 visit from the mysterious no-show source to the machine in Hangar 19 to their daring escape. The Gunmen listened, enraptured.</p><p>“It must be that new tech I was telling you about last night, Mulder!” Langly said excitedly, turning to Scully. She leaned forward and tilted her head a bit. “Oh, I mean… um, Agent Scully.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” Mulder said.</p><p>“They’ve had the tech ever since the crash at Roswell,” Langly explained, turning to him, “but the military has apparently been developing something more recently having to do with memory erasure, and memory retrieval.”</p><p><em> Memory erasure? </em>Mulder perked up. That wasn’t what happened to him and Scully. But maybe the Gunmen could actually be helpful to them and their current situation.</p><p>“Did you know,” Byers continued, “they’ve supposedly outfitted their aircraft with this technology to make people forget what they’ve seen almost as soon as they’ve seen it?”</p><p>“Hard enough to get anyone to believe you’ve seen a UFO,” Frohike added. “Now it’s practically impossible.” </p><p>Mulder caught Scully’s glance and smirked. She ignored him with a trademark eyeroll. “So, this memory erasure… can it be applied to this body-swapping business?” she asked. “Because I’ve got to tell you, boys, I wish my biggest problem was merely forgetting that I’m sweating constantly and covered in hair.”</p><p>The four men turned to look at her, half in offense, half in empathy. Before anyone could reply, however, Mulder’s office phone rang, and Scully looked at the Caller ID. She looked back up at Mulder. “Nevada area code.” </p><p>“Speakerphone,” he said, and she obliged.</p><p>“Fox Mulder,” Scully answered, his familiar baritone echoing inside the basement office.</p><p>“Hello Agent Mulder, I work out here at the Groom Lake facility, my name is Morris Fletcher,” came an unfamiliar voice from the speaker. “I want to start by apologizing for the trouble you encountered the other day. By no means was any force authorized against you and your partner.”</p><p>Mulder furrowed his brow, and Scully looked at him curiously. <em> Is this your source? </em> she mouthed, and he shook his head. The voice was different, and his source had preferred to remain anonymous. Besides, he only contacted him on his cell phone. Mulder wanted to know for sure but he couldn’t confront this Fletcher person- or any air base personnel- if doing so meant revealing there was, in fact, an anonymous leak in their midst. Protecting his sources was always a priority.</p><p>“What did you say your name was?” Scully asked, unsure exactly how to proceed.</p><p>“Morris Fletcher. I’ve also contacted your Assistant Director explaining this entire debacle was simply a huge mistake, and I’d like to make it up to you both.”</p><p>Scully looked extremely confused. “I’m sorry… what exactly are you offering?” she asked with great trepidation.</p><p>“Well, a little birdie told me you two were out here looking around the facility for something that would really turn your head around. So I looked you up and gosh darnit, whaddya know. A department of the FBI that’s dedicated to little green men?” The man laughed. “I’ll be damned, I said; I’d really like to pick your brains.”</p><p>Mulder was floored. Something wasn’t quite right about this.</p><p>“Anyway, I’d like to invite you both back out here on our dime with the most sincere apologies,” Morris Fletcher continued. “I can show you around the facility, at least the stuff I won’t get fired for, you understand, and we can talk shop. What do you say?”</p><p>Mulder looked up to Scully, who looked reasonably suspicious. “Mr… Fletcher, was it?” she asked. “I’m going to have to call you right back.”</p><p>Scully hung up and looked at Mulder. “Well, I suppose we’ve been waiting for a call like that since this all happened, right?”</p><p>Mulder nodded, refraining from pointing out he had actually been waiting for a call like that his entire life. </p><p>“That name,” Byers suddenly said. “Morris Fletcher. It sounds so familiar to me. I think it’s possible we ran across that name somewhere in our data mining the other night.”</p><p>Frohike stood. “You’re right, we did! His name was associated with some of the schematics we saw, pages and pages of them. Something about a machine, I think.”</p><p>Scully’s eyes darted to Mulder’s in a shared hopefulness. “A machine?”</p><p>“I definitely remember something about a machine. Top secret, of course,” Langly said. </p><p>“There was a machine,” Mulder nodded. “We were standing in front of one right before this whole thing happened.”</p><p>“All of the information we downloaded is on that drive I put in your coat pocket last night,” Langly explained, looking at Scully. Mulder turned to her expectantly as Scully walked over to the coat rack, dug her hand into the pocket of Mulder’s trench coat, and produced the drive with a grin.</p><p>Mulder smiled in eager anticipation. “Boys, I’m going to go grab three extra cups of coffee. We have a lot to discuss.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>LITTLE ALE’ E’ INN </p><p>RACHEL, NEVADA</p><p>TUESDAY, 8:34 PM</p><p>
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</p><p>The flight to Nevada was as uneventful as they both could have hoped for. Mulder was excited to be going back to Dreamland again, this time with a proper invitation, but Scully appeared uneasy. She never once spoke of her concerns, however, and while Mulder certainly had a healthy level of skepticism this Morris Fletcher person could actually help them, he couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate all of the things he might show them; things both he and Scully could see. Thoughts of Roswell and alien technology and boldly going where no (well, few) men had gone before were hard to ignore.</p><p>He went to check into the motel for the night, and Scully volunteered to pick up some dinner for the two of them at the restaurant next door and meet him back at his room. </p><p>His room, but it was apparently going to be their room, as the Little Ale’ E’ Inn was booked nearly solid. Mulder wondered if there was some sort of gathering going on; if perhaps there was a group of eager UFO chasers planning to congregate at the famed black mailbox. </p><p>Or maybe not. Maybe fate, as usual, was simply determined to make things as awkward as possible for him and Scully.</p><p>The man at the front desk handed him a single key, smiling lasciviously. He wasn’t even attempting to hide it. It was occurring to Mulder that over the past couple of days he’d been undressed with more pairs of eyes than he’d ever thought possible. Mulder wasn’t ashamed in any way of his own looks; he had confidence and was well aware that women looked at him a bit longer than was perhaps appropriate. But as Scully, it seemed the looks lasted even longer and were far more suggestive, to the point where he was beginning to feel downright uncomfortable.</p><p>He certainly wasn’t the only man to ever acknowledge that Scully was beautiful. But was it really like this for her all the time? How did she ever manage to do her job effectively when the men around her were seemingly incapable of taking her seriously?</p><p>He reflected on their partnership as he carried their luggage to the room. He’d been respectful towards Scully over the years, hadn’t he? There were definitely times (more than he could count) when he’d allowed his gaze to linger perhaps a bit longer than he should have. Had he ever made her feel as uncomfortable as the men he’d encountered over the past couple of days had made him feel?</p><p>He unlocked the door, threw their things on the bed and sent Scully a text message with their room number. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door. He opened it, letting her in. “Thanks, I’m starving.”</p><p>“Which room is mine?” she asked as she unpacked their food.</p><p>“Um… this one?” he offered weakly. “Sorry, Scully, looks like we’re bunking up for the evening.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she sighed. “Well, at least I’ll be the one who keeps you awake this time.”</p><p>He grinned; over the years they’d had to share rooms on several occasions, and it hadn’t been uncommon to get an object thrown at him from across the room in the middle of the night to stop his snoring.</p><p>She smiled back and as she set their food out on the table, he watched her closely. His thoughts were all over the place, but mostly on the clerk at the front desk and his subsequent musings. He simply had to know.</p><p>“Scully, can I ask you something?” </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>He paused. “Have I… have I ever made you feel uncomfortable?” She looked confused. “I mean, you know. As a woman.”</p><p>She sat down, kicking off her (his) shoes. “No, Mulder,” she assured him, but didn’t meet his eye. “Never.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure if he believed her, and maybe it was because he was perfectly aware he’d checked her out in unprofessional ways over the years. Was she only humoring him?</p><p>“Hey,” he said, trying to get her full attention as she unpacked their food. “Look at me.”</p><p>She placed his burger on the table then stopped to oblige him. </p><p>Mulder continued. “I’ve been leered at enough the past couple days to realize this must be something you deal with all the time. I’ve tried to be respectful as your partner over the years but… I can’t help but wonder what it must be like for you. So, I’m serious. If I’ve ever made you uncomfortable, I want to apologize.”</p><p>She smiled at him. “Yes, men look. And some look far too long. But it only makes me uncomfortable when it’s unwelcome.” She leaned back in her chair and eyed him meaningfully, the incomplete thought hovering in the air.</p><p>She looked sincere, and he wanted to believe it was true. So he nodded. </p><p>“Is everything else okay?” she asked him. “Besides the very real possibility you could be stuck getting leered at for the rest of your life?”</p><p>Chuckling, he sat down across from her. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m doing okay. Other than that.”</p><p>“It’s not so bad for me, you know,” she mused. “It’s actually remarkably easy to be a man.”</p><p>He scoffed, his mouth full of burger. “How so?”</p><p>“Everyone listens to me now, no hesitation. Automatically.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing, or how I’m standing, or how much I raise my voice.” </p><p>Mulder hesitated, but then spoke. “You’re the last person I’d ever expect to have to prove herself to anyone, Scully.”</p><p>She smiled, but he was well aware his experience of two days couldn’t possibly encompass her entire professional experience. His newfound appreciation of her struggle wouldn’t change or fix it moving forward, whether they got themselves out of this mess or not.</p><p>“When you doubled over back at Quantico, that asshole assumed I couldn’t do my job properly,” she said, shaking her head. “If I were a man, he wouldn’t have jumped to that assumption. He’d have been calling for a medic.”</p><p>Mulder looked thoughtful. “I think you’re right,” he agreed. “And I really wish you weren’t.” He paused for a moment. “Why did you come to my rescue, then?” he asked. “I mean… the way you did.”</p><p>He’d been busy trying to keep himself from puking all over the hallway, but he’d definitely heard her placate the man who most certainly hadn’t deserved it.</p><p>“It was male privilege, plain and simple,” she shrugged. “I knew I’d have it, and I hated using it at that moment but I can’t deny that it worked.” She thought for a moment. “I should have just told him you were on your period, now that I think about it. That would have sent him running for the hills.”</p><p>“See, there are some advantages,” he said. “Excessive male squeamishness, for one.” He shuddered, unwelcome images of writhing maggots in a body cavity screaming back into his brain.</p><p>“I’m still impressed you were able to do that at all, Mulder,” she acknowledged.</p><p>“I wouldn’t have done it for anyone but you,” he grinned. “You’re a badass, Scully, and I think everyone at the Bureau respects your expertise. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.”</p><p>She looked at him and smiled. “You should know that I really appreciate you, Mulder. In our entire partnership, you’ve never dismissed my expertise or opinion based on whether or not I have a penis.”</p><p>He grinned. “Well, you have one now.”</p><p>She suddenly blushed, and he knew why. Somehow she’d briefly forgotten she was actually him now. Complete with penis.</p><p>“Are you blushing, Scully?” he laughed. “Come on, you’re a scientist.”</p><p>She couldn’t help but grin in response, grateful he was trying to defuse the awkward moment with a joke. “I honestly don’t know how you guys walk around with these things.”</p><p>He shrugged. “I don’t know how you don’t. I sure miss mine.”</p><p>“You can have it,” she muttered. “It’s nothing but trouble.”</p><p>“What?” he chuckled, leaning in slightly, hardly believing his ears.</p><p>“Sorry, I don’t- I don’t know why I said that.” She picked up her burger to take a bite. “I don’t want to talk about your penis.”</p><p>“I’m not so sure about that,” he smirked. “You can’t seem to stop mentioning it.”</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s just… there,” she said, a bit exasperated. “All the time!”</p><p>He laughed. “Now you’re getting a little taste of what comes along with that male privilege, aren’t you?”</p><p>She sipped at her iced tea. “It is pretty fascinating,” she admitted. “And I think I get it, actually. When I was young, I used to take baths with my little brother. My mom told me once that she knew our bath-sharing days were over the day Charlie took a tiny finger puppet and placed it... right there.”</p><p>Mulder laughed. “We can’t help it, truly.”</p><p>“Speaking strictly as a scientist, mind you, I feel like I have an entirely new understanding.”</p><p>He nodded mock-solemnly. “Of course. As a scientist.”</p><p>“But it really can be rather inconvenient.”</p><p>Mulder extended his arms in an <em> I told you so </em> gesture, even though they’d never actually had a conversation about this particular topic. “ <em> Inconvenient </em>. A perfect descriptor.”</p><p>“This morning I was waiting for coffee to brew, and it… moved.” She shook her head, embarrassed. “Over coffee!”</p><p>“I do really like coffee,” Mulder said somberly, and she laughed, tossing a balled up napkin at him. He was thankful, for as awkward as it was to be talking about this with her at all, it felt great to be joking about it, too. </p><p>They finished up their meal and, after the food was cleared away, found themselves staring at the lone queen bed.</p><p>“Um… so, what’s the plan, here?” she asked.</p><p>“I’ll take the pull-out,” he said. “It’s fine. You can have the bed.”</p><p>She shook her head. “I’d prefer you didn’t, considering that’s my back and neck you’re sleeping on,” she pointed out. “Three days in a row and I’m not looking forward to getting that body back.”</p><p>“Okay. So what do you suggest?”</p><p>She crossed to the other side of the bed, picking up one of the pillows and tossing it at him. He caught it, confused. </p><p>“Pick a side,” she said.</p><p>
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</p><p>***</p><p>
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</p><p>It didn’t take them long to get ready for bed, each of them avoiding the other’s eye, trying very hard to remain as discreet as possible. It occurred to Mulder this was actually quite silly; they were literally hiding bodies from each other that were familiar and comfortable. But everything felt unusual enough; he didn’t want to do anything out of what he could consider a normal routine.</p><p>After changing into Scully’s pajamas and brushing his teeth, he quietly slipped into the cool sheets and turned out the light on his nightstand. Scully slipped in beside him a couple of minutes later.</p><p>They were quiet, the speeding cars on the highway the only sound. There was a soft green glow from the sign outside the window that welcomed weary road travelers to the inn, and he found it somewhat ironic that the only witness to this intimacy was a blinking neon alien.</p><p>After a couple of minutes Scully shifted next to him. It was barely anything at first, but then she flipped over to her stomach, shifting some more. Then over onto her back again.</p><p>“You okay, Scully?” he asked, laying stock still, staring up at the dark ceiling.</p><p>“Yeah, sorry. I just can’t get comfortable.”</p><p>She was still for a few moments, then the tossing and turning began anew. He could hear her exhaling in frustration.</p><p>“Is there-”</p><p>“I’m fine, Mulder!” she snapped.</p><p>And that was when he knew: the shifting was, in fact, quite familiar. He chanced a look over at her and saw what he expected to see: Scully, next to him in bed, quite plainly aroused.</p><p>His mind went wild with wonder at what had caused it: was it merely laying in bed next to him? Or was Scully just experiencing this new body in the exact way she’d alluded to earlier that evening: a stiff breeze and a cough could do the trick?</p><p>“Scully…” he said softly, and he wasn’t sure if talking would help or hurt the situation.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“It’s okay, I get it,” he offered.</p><p>“You get what?”</p><p>“I just mean…” he searched for the correct way to approach this. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It happens far more often than you think. I don’t want you to be embarrassed, is all.”</p><p>“I’m not embarrassed, I’m just trying to get comfortable,” she retorted, with absolute mortification in her voice.</p><p>He wanted to laugh, but the last thing he wanted was to make her even more embarrassed, and before he knew what was happening the thought of Scully sporting an erection - <em> his </em> erection, to be precise - began to have an effect on him, too. And this, he most certainly was not expecting.</p><p>He felt it first in his nipples; the feather-light touch of the cool sheet was thin enough for him to feel that they were beginning to harden. Without thinking, he automatically put his hands across them to alleviate his discomfort, but the feeling of Scully’s full breasts and aroused nipples beneath his hands made him groan, completely involuntarily. It wasn’t him groaning, however: the sounds of Scully were coming out of his mouth and suddenly what began as a tiny snowball had become an avalanche, until he realized he was surrounded with every type of Scully arousal his imagination could fathom.</p><p>And he didn’t have to imagine; he pulled his knees together and drew them up, feeling the pounding of his heartbeat between his thighs, wetness beginning to pool.  </p><p><em> Jesus, </em>he thought, turning his back to her. It had honestly never occurred to him that women experienced this degree of unprovoked arousal, and the mere thought spurred the feeling on and on. He was in this now just as deeply as Scully was, and he wondered how on earth they would take care of their respective problems without humiliating or disrespecting the other.</p><p>While his excitement was intense, and even more so knowing he was in Scully’s body experiencing it, he knew that it wasn’t quite the same as it was when he inhabited his own. As self-conscious as he was, he did not envy Scully her inability to hide from him what was happening to her.</p><p>So he waited. He waited to see what she would do, if she would get up and excuse herself; maybe flip on the fan in the bathroom, flush the toilet, take care of business. It’s what he would do, if the roles were reversed. But she did none of those things. He listened as she exhaled, in and out, controlling her breathing. She was trying to make it go down, and he admired her fortitude, immediately ashamed of his own assumption she would give in so easily.</p><p>While he could tell the underwear he was wearing was uncomfortably damp, he didn’t dare get up either. If she could power through this condition, so the hell could he.</p><p>After a few minutes she was quiet, and he’d calmed considerably as well. He turned to face her again, away from the window, and she turned her head slowly towards him. Seeing his own face resting comfortably next to him, a relaxed expression reflected in the moonlight, made him feel still and sleepy. </p><p>He slid his hand over to hers, held it open next to her. She took it, and, in time,  they both fell fast asleep.</p><p>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>LITTLE ALE’ E’ INN </p><p>RACHEL, NEVADA</p><p>WEDNESDAY, 9:12 AM</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> She hadn’t been thinking about it at all; the sounds of celebration and new beginnings and the world not ending filled her mind to the brim as she attempted to ignore the heat of him next to her. Dick Clark did his song and dance and so, of course, would they; two-stepping in and out of each following day without acknowledging the unacknowledged, the terrifying, the impossible.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The inevitable. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She turned her head to look at her partner and before she knew what was happening he was kissing her, kissing her, months and months after his last attempt had been foiled by that damned apoidean interloper. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was no bee this time: only the gentle tug of hesitation, of the unknown. Perhaps Mulder hadn’t been sure how she would react, if she would react, if she would be open to this particular advance after all this time. But oh, was she open. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d been so open she was momentarily stunned, disappointed even, that they’d left it where they did. She hadn’t known what to do, what exactly should have happened, what exactly she should have made happen. Everything about their relationship was so complex and daunting and big. But the moment passed, the new year began. The world didn’t end. And she was left to imagine. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So she’d imagined. She’d imagined every night since: the kiss continuing, the lips that had been so off-limits for years suddenly hers. He was suddenly hers, to do with what she wished. She’d wished for what felt like so long: watching him through an observation window as he held another woman’s hand, when she’d pretended to be his wife, when she’d nearly died on the floor of his apartment but didn’t because he’d been there.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Always there, but never hers; not really. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d imagined the taste of his tongue and the sound of his sighs as the line between friends and lovers blurred, and all of the rules she’d previously adhered to no longer existed. She imagined his hands sliding up her back, into her hair, claiming her as if she hadn’t been his for years. And then there was no hospital, no Times Square ball drop, just the two of them panting and sweating and-- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Something awoke her and her eyes flew open wide. The popcorn ceiling above came into focus and she remembered first that she was in a shitty motel with Mulder, and second that she was in a shitty motel <em> in bed </em> with Mulder.</p><p>Her third realization was that something had occurred in the night; something that while she as a scientist knew was possible, she also knew was rather unusual for a man of Mulder’s age. She cursed the gods for allowing it to happen to her as she stole a quick glance at her slumbering partner, rolled out of the bed and quietly padded into the bathroom to clean up the sticky mess on her stomach.</p><p>Part of her was relieved her new body had taken care of its little condition on its own while she was sleeping and she didn’t have to do it herself again. But the other part of her grieved; she couldn’t help but mourn the potential loss of learning about Mulder’s body for the first time the right way, the normal way.</p><p>She laughed to herself as she got into the shower. <em> Normal. </em> Since when had anything ever been normal for the two of them?</p><p>She walked out of the bathroom with a towel tied around her waist. The sensation of air on her naked chest was oddly freeing as she crossed the room to her suitcase and pulled out one of Mulder’s suits. She dressed quickly, an eye never leaving Mulder’s prone form, then approached the bed. Mulder lay sprawled out on his stomach, head turned to the side with fiery hair splayed every which way, breathing peacefully. </p><p>She didn’t have long to watch him before one of his eyes opened.</p><p>“You’re staring,” he said simply.</p><p>She looked away and stood up. “Sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” he said, yawning. “It’s not often one gets to watch oneself sleeping, I suppose.”</p><p>She grinned. “I’m gonna go get some coffees and breakfast. Shower’s all yours.”</p><p>He sat up, his auburn bob mussed, looking around the room blinking in an adorably sleepy, somewhat familiar manner. “Okay.”</p><p>She grabbed the room key and stepped outside, heading for the restaurant. She wasn’t certain what would be available at this hour but the thought of being inside the room while Mulder showered in her body right next to her was a bit too much to contemplate.</p><p>The restaurant, however, was fairly packed for a Tuesday morning, and Scully wondered briefly if there was nowhere else for the residents of Rachel to go. It was a small town, but she liked it. Her mind inevitably wandered to when she’d shared these thoughts with Mulder on their last journey out here; he always listened, but never really seemed to comprehend the times she told him she was interested in a life outside of the X-Files. She could hardly blame him. He was Fox Mulder. A life outside the X-Files didn’t really compute.</p><p>She approached the bar where the same bartender from the last time noticed her, smiling. “Can I get you a coffee, love?”</p><p>Scully nodded. “Two, please, and can I see a menu?”</p><p>The waitress handed her one. She ordered a couple of breakfast sandwiches and handed the menu back.</p><p>“It’ll be about ten minutes hon,” the waitress said. “Can I get a name for the order?”</p><p>“Fox Mulder.”</p><p>The waitress cocked her head in amusement and winked. “Sure thing, Fox.” She bustled away.</p><p>“Excuse me,” came a small voice from beside her. Scully turned her head to look at the woman sitting at the bar nearby. “Did you say your name was ‘Fox?’” She looked to be in her mid-forties, brown hair, sipping a cup of coffee. </p><p>Scully nodded. “Yep, that’s me.”</p><p>The woman shook her head as if waving away a bug. “That’s so odd. I just had the strangest sensation of déjà vu.”</p><p>“Oh?” Scully turned to face her fully, curious.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “It’s probably nothing.”</p><p>The woman looked friendly enough, and Scully had a few minutes to kill anyway. “I never really liked it,” she said. “Just another thing that irritated me about my parents.”</p><p>The woman laughed. “I understand that. My youngest has been going through a phase where he can’t seem to make up his mind on what he wants to be called. Terrence, Terry, I got ‘Terrell’ for a while.” She shook her head.</p><p>“How many children do you have?” Scully asked, curious.</p><p>“Two. My oldest is away at college. It won’t be long until I start to worry about that empty nest syndrome. I’m not really looking forward to being alone.” </p><p>“You’re not... married?” Scully asked, indicating the wedding band on her finger. The woman balked, and suddenly cognizant of the fact that she was actually currently a man, Scully quickly recalibrated. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. Just making conversation.”</p><p>“No, it’s okay…” she held up her finger, looked at the band. “We’re divorcing. Just haven’t been able to take it off, you know?”</p><p>“I get it,” Scully replied, even though she really didn’t. “How long has it been?”</p><p>“Six months,” the woman replied. “Although it feels much longer than that.” She took a sip of her coffee and eyed Scully, this handsome male stranger, warily, as if wondering if she should continue. At first Scully wondered why she was revealing so much at all, but she then rationalized that, whoever this woman was, she’d clearly needed someone to talk to. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Scully said earnestly, hoping her eyes were enough of an indicator to allow the woman to unload whatever it was she felt like unloading. </p><p>“It’s okay,” she replied. “I guess I should have seen it coming. He used to be such a good man. But years ago that just… changed. I don’t understand what happened.”</p><p>Scully took a deep breath. “Men can be… interesting creatures,” she offered. “We pretend like we have it all together but really, we don’t know what we want.” She eyed the woman. “But then again, neither do women.”</p><p>She smiled. “Isn’t that the truth,” she muttered, then took another sip. “We both wanted children. The white picket fence, the dog, all of that normal stuff. And then, over time…” she shrugged. “I suppose it just got <em> too </em> normal for him.”</p><p>Scully felt uncomfortable at this; she couldn’t help but think of the times she’d shared her desire for those very things with Mulder, and although they weren’t a couple in any traditional sense, it was clear to her they didn’t share those desires. </p><p>“There are men…” Scully began carefully, “who can get restless. Distracted. But it doesn’t mean they don’t care.” She hoped it was true.</p><p>“You obviously haven’t met my husband,” the woman scoffed. “He’s mastered the art of indifference.”</p><p>Just then the waitress returned with Scully’s order, handing it to her. The woman at the bar finished the last of her coffee and stood up, smiling, extending her hand. “I’m Joanne, by the way. Joanne Fletcher.”</p><p>
  <em> Fletcher? </em>
</p><p>Scully took the woman’s small hand and shook it with her large one, and as she absorbed the name, the shock of coincidence hit her square in the chest. “Did you say Fletcher?”</p><p>“That’s right,” she replied. “Well, not for much longer, anyway.”</p><p>Scully grinned tightly, deciding to keep the connection to herself, but it was the strangest sensation. She didn’t recognize this woman at all, but something had sparked a recollection of some kind; she just couldn’t determine exactly what it was. </p><p>Joanne Fletcher laid a few bucks on the counter and turned to go. “Thanks for the talk. I really hope you’re right, you know, about what you said.” She waved. “It was nice to meet you, Fox Mulder.” </p><p>Scully waved back, watching her go, hoping she’d been right as well. “Likewise.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>***</p><p>
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</p><p>When Scully arrived back at the room, Mulder had thankfully already showered and dressed. She was grateful to avoid any further potential landmines. She set out their coffees and breakfast on the table, and Mulder approached gratefully. They ate for a few minutes and Scully felt tense, looking over her shoulder every several seconds. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but ever since she’d left the restaurant she’d grown tremendously uneasy.</p><p>After a while, they finished up their breakfast and as Scully wiped her mouth with her napkin she decided to tell Mulder about her encounter.</p><p>“So… I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this,” she announced.</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“I think I may have just run into Morris Fletcher’s wife. I guess ex-wife. In the restaurant.”</p><p>Mulder looked confused. “How do you know?”</p><p>She shrugged. “I don’t. But her last name was Fletcher.”</p><p>Mulder raised an eyebrow. “There could be a dozen Fletchers in this town, Scully. It’s unlike you to make a leap like that.”</p><p>Scully shook her head. “I don’t know how I know, I just… know. It was her.” She wasn’t sure how to explain the feeling that had come over her in the bar; the fact that Joanne Fletcher had first noticed and thought perhaps she’d recognized Mulder, then the insane coincidence of revealing her last name to be the same as the very person they were scheduled to meet with that day. “It was just too weird.”</p><p>Mulder grinned. “You know what I think is weird? That some of my spookiness has clearly rubbed off on you.”</p><p>She playfully kicked him under the table.</p><p>“Watch it,” he chuckled. “That’s your own shin you’re bruising.”</p><p>“So… what’s our plan, Mulder?” she asked him, focusing on their task and trying to forget about the strange feeling she had. “We combed through those files and there was nothing about body swapping. What if this was just a fluke?”</p><p>Mulder looked up from his coffee. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? What if we can just get back in front of that machine, and it can undo this?”</p><p>“I hope you’re joking.”</p><p>He grinned. She was never quite sure whether or not he was serious when his exuberance outweighed his rationality. All he had in response was a shrug.</p><p>She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she sighed. </p><p>He leaned forward as she glanced nervously at the door again. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a little jumpy.”</p><p>“I just have this really bad feeling. I guess I’m a little paranoid.”</p><p>“You’re already doing a pretty good job at being me, Scully. No need to dig that deep.”</p><p>“This whole thing just feels really odd to me,” she said. “The other day we were invited to Groom Lake, and let onto the property, but then there was no one there to meet us. They just… led us into that room and this happened. And then this Fletcher guy calls, inviting us back. No strings attached. Just come on in!” she gesticulated for emphasis.</p><p>“This is exactly what we’ve been waiting for, Scully,” he said. “The opportunity to set this right.”</p><p>She nodded. “I know, I know that.”</p><p>“Then what’s wrong?”</p><p>“I don’t know, I just…” she shuddered. “Aren’t you afraid this could be some kind of trap? We were caught in a highly secretive military facility, and we escaped. I can’t help but think we’re not going to get the friendliest reception from this Fletcher person, in spite of his promises.”</p><p>Mulder nodded, and she could see even in her own familiar eyes that he was listening, that he was absorbing what she was saying. </p><p>“I hear you, Scully,” he said. “I do. But what are they going to do, arrest us for trespassing?” he asked. “They could do that anyway.”</p><p>“What if we’ve inadvertently become part of some kind of military experiment? What if that’s why we’re being summoned back out there?”</p><p>“I understand your concerns,” he admitted. “But what choice do we have? Going back there is the only way to even begin to attempt to sort this out. Maybe this Fletcher person can help us.”</p><p>She looked at him very seriously. “Or maybe he just wants to silence us.”</p><p>Scully knew very well that Mulder had always been more trusting than he wanted anyone to let on, despite his attempts to convince people otherwise. But she also knew that in spite of his past behavior, he would never knowingly put her in danger. </p><p>“It’s not beneath them, as you and I are well aware,” she continued. </p><p>Mulder nodded, and she saw what she identified as actual fear in his familiar feminine features. The idea of anyone attempting to hurt her was one of his hot buttons, she knew, and she’d just pushed it.</p><p>“How about I approach Fletcher alone, first. You know, as Agent Scully,” he suggested. “He’d probably be more inclined to help… you.”</p><p>“What exactly are you implying, Mulder?” she queried.</p><p>“You know exactly what I’m implying.” Scully rolled her eyes. Mulder continued, “I’ll feel him out. See what he knows.”</p><p>She looked at him carefully. “Have you considered the possibility that he may not even believe you?”</p><p>Mulder blinked, clearly having not considered such a preposterous notion.</p><p>“If you just go up to this guy and tell him we think his machine may have swapped our minds, he could have us committed,” she pointed out.</p><p>Mulder sighed. “Scully, the guy works at Area 51,” he argued. “He’s seen more crazy shit than either of us.”</p><p>“But maybe he hasn’t seen this,” she said. “Just think about it.”</p><p>Mulder nodded. “I’m thinking, Scully, I am. And I still think that this is our best chance to set everything right. Otherwise…” he shrugged, not finishing the sentence. </p><p>There was no <em> otherwise</em>, and they both knew it. Remaining this way wasn’t an option for either of them. </p><p>“I know you’re right,” she agreed. “I know we have to go back. I’m just afraid, Mulder. What if they just wipe our memories? What if we leave with no recollection of any of this? Just stuck in each other’s bodies with no knowledge of how it happened?” </p><p>She went one step further. “What if… we forget who we are? Or forget each other?” she whispered. A chill ran through her body at the possibility.</p><p>He took her large hand with his tiny one, and while it was unusual, it was still comfortably, undeniably them.</p><p>“I won’t let anything happen to you Scully,” he said. She raised an eyebrow. “Well... again,” he chuckled, and she laughed too, just a little bit. </p><p>She pulled him into an embrace, both of them defaulting to their usual method of hugging - his head on top of hers, her head buried into his chest - and finding it awkwardly difficult at their current heights.</p><p>She leaned away from him, looking down to meet his gaze. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, Mulder.”</p><p>“Because this isn't my body I’m messing with?” he winked.</p><p>“Because I don’t want to lose you,” she said, very seriously. She then bit her lip, almost embarrassed by what she’d revealed.</p><p>He reached up and took her face in his tiny hands, pulling her forehead down to his. </p><p>“You won’t, Scully. I promise.”</p><p>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>AREA 51</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>GROOM LAKE, NEVADA</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>WEDNESDAY, 11:00 AM</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bits and pieces of his past lives came back to Morris Fletcher at random moments. Occasionally he’d remember an unfamiliar face, or pulling on some shoes he’d never purchased. It was all hazy, but it was there, locked away somewhere in his memory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His life with Joanne and the kids had been a sort of half-life. He’d always felt that his presence had been merely tolerated, never desired, and in hindsight he knew exactly why. He’d thought he’d wanted that life, and realized too late he’d been wrong. It had been difficult to hide that sentiment from his family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he wanted more than anything was another life: a new start, another chance. He couldn’t make that happen at home even if he wanted to. Joanne had packed up his things and left them on the curb. Then she changed the locks. His kids hadn’t given him so much as a phone call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever been cut out for that kind of normal life. But he realized it didn’t matter. The past was in the past. So whenever that happened, he simply refocused on work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris was well aware of the power of the technology being used at Area 51. But when that aircraft passed over him in early 1999, swapping his life with Fox Mulder’s, it was the first time he’d experienced such a thing. While he wasn’t exactly certain how it had happened, it had happened all the same. He hadn’t questioned it. He’d meant what he said at the time: it felt like a gift from heaven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After time had snapped back, he’d remembered very little. But when Morris went back to work over the next few days, surrounded by the same technology that had found him a few evenings prior, he began to remember. And the things he remembered about that life… they were things he wanted back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After procuring a photograph of the FBI agent on the web, he’d buried it in his secret drawer, in his past. He would forget the details over time but if he ever needed to, he could remember again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, he was in the perfect position to want to remember. To need to remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dana, Dana, Dana.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts turned to Agent Mulder’s redheaded partner. There was a fire inside that one he liked, a lot. Once he’d started to remember, he’d been having flashes of her during their brief time together: that provocative authoritative tone, her refusal to indulge his advances. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Those handcuffs.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t known her long (at all, really) but when she’d held up those cuffs with that single eyebrow raised he hadn’t doubted for a second she was actually suggesting they have a little fun. There was something about her that screamed it: deep down, Dana Scully wanted to have a little fun. And she wanted to be in control. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found that incredibly intimidating. Actually, he found it incredibly arousing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris sat in his chair and waited for his visitors to make their way to his office. He didn’t have to wait long until she was before him, striding through the door with her hand outstretched, that confidence he definitely remembered. Her partner was nowhere to be seen, but he certainly didn’t have a problem with that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Special Agent Dana Scully,” she said in that sexy no-nonsense tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris cocked his head a bit, took a long drag from his cigarette, putting it out in an ashtray with the phrase </span>
  <em>
    <span>Take Me To Your Leader</span>
  </em>
  <span> scrawled across the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to see you, Dana,” he said with what he knew was his most winning smile. As he reached up to shake her hand she looked at him oddly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have we… met somewhere before?” she asked curiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I think I’d remember you.” He smiled again, but she didn’t seem to be swayed by his rampant charm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strange, you just… you look a bit familiar to me, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris thought it odd that Dana Scully could possibly have any recollection of him. As far as she was concerned, they’d only met briefly in the middle of a dark Nevada road for a couple of minutes. But he shrugged it off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Scully swiveled her head to look around his office, and walked up to a framed picture on his wall. As she studied it closely, he got up and made his way across the room to stand beside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty cool, huh?” he said. The Grenada UFO stamp was one of his most prized possessions. It was rare in his line of work when something he was supposed to keep secret could be flaunted in front of civilian faces without any repercussions. They never believed any of it anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” she agreed. “One of the few times UFOs were ever brought up in an address to the United Nations. 1978, the prime minister of Grenada.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fletcher was surprised. And again, extremely turned on. “I knew your partner was well-versed in this kind of stuff, but color me impressed, Agent Scully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled. “I really hope you plan to show us the real thing.” It may have been in his own imagination, but he could swear she looked almost aroused herself by the prospect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All in good time,” he replied. “Sit, please,” he gestured to the seat situated across from his desk.</span>
</p>
<p><span>She sat, crossed her legs, and pinned him with a look that made his balls do that tightening thing they’d done the first time he saw her on the surveillance footage.</span> <span>Quite frankly, this woman scared the shit out of him. And he liked it.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s your partner?” he asked. While he needed Fox Mulder here to make his plan work, he had no problem being alone with the man’s beautiful partner for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll be along shortly. But before we begin, I’d like to talk to you about something that happened here the other night,” Agent Scully began. “Something I’m not sure you’ll believe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” he asked, curiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid when my partner and I were here, we experienced something… rather unusual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure exactly what she was getting at, and he honestly didn’t care. Mostly, he was interested in how far he could take this before her partner showed up. Morris slowly wandered over until he was standing directly in front of her, between her and the desk. She shifted a bit uncomfortably. He sat down on the edge of the desk in his most suave manner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dana… can I call you Dana?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agent Scully, please,” she said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocked his head and reached out to touch her knee, and it was then that the tightening in his balls was amplified into a jolting pain. He saw stars in front of his eyes, then the face of Dana Scully as she stood up in front of him. She moved her crushing grip from his ball sack to his shoulders, and threw him firmly against the wall, her hands around his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t ever touch her again,” she growled, much to Morris’s confusion. He grasped at her strangling hand, desperately clawing it away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-her? Wh-what are you talking about?” he yelped. “Come on, baby, let’s talk about this-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She put her other hand around his neck and held him even tighter. Her eyes were fiery, and he had an instant flash of recollection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Baby me, and you’ll be peeing through a catheter.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t call her baby,” she said, and he was again thrown by her referring to herself in the third person. “Watch yourself, Fletcher.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a threat, but it wasn’t the kind of threat he’d expect from a woman attempting to shrug off his advances. Honestly, it sounded like a threat from a jealous boyfriend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widened, and suddenly everything clicked into place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he was fairly certain he knew what had happened to the two agents at the Kettle. Rather than extracting their memories, the machine had swapped their minds. This was not Agent Scully at all, but instead her very male, and apparently very territorial, partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fox Mulder, I presume?” he grunted, staring him right in the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent’s eyes widened, and he released Morris, backing away slowly. Morris straightened his suit out and took a couple of breaths. “So much for proper introductions. Where’s your pretty partner, Agent?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Agent Scully,’ who Morris now knew was actually Agent Mulder, cocked his head a bit curiously. “So you do know what’s happened to us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris eyed him. “I knew I recognized your partner from somewhere. And now I know why you recognize me, too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Agent Mulder growled. Morris knew it was really him inside Dana Scully’s body, but the entire situation was still strangely arousing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what’s happened to you because it’s happened before,” Morris sighed in an over-the-top way. “About a year ago, I’d guess? I don’t remember everything. But some of it I do recall.” His eyebrows darted up a couple of times. “The good parts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent’s eyes flickered and he shook his pretty head in reaction, red hair bouncing above his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I don’t need to tell you, Agent Mulder,” Morris said evenly. “You already know. Don’t you? You remember.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris wasn’t exactly sure how much Agent Mulder could or would remember, but he’d learned enough about how memory worked over the years to know that  sometimes a simple reminder was all it took. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you remember,” he continued. “Joanne, brown hair, eager to please and yet somehow constantly disappointed in you? Terry, total wuss? Chris, bratty teenager, hates your guts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder stepped back, blinked a couple of times. Morris nodded encouragingly. There was a skeptical look on the agent’s face that Morris was instantly attracted to, and the more impure thoughts he had about Dana Scully the weirder this interaction would get.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly Agent Mulder’s jaw began to drop. “I don’t believe this,” he uttered quietly. “It can’t be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris smiled with smug satisfaction and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder looked dazed. “The last time we came here… something happened that night. I remember a light… a flash. Then… nothing.” He closed his eyes as if trying to remember. “But there was something, I know there was. I just… I can’t remember.” He opened his eyes. “Why can’t I remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s hard to say,” Morris replied. “Memory is tricky. Some things stand out more than others. It’ll come back to you in time, once you know what it is you’re trying to recall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris went over to his desk and unlocked the top drawer. He pulled out the small pen-shaped device he kept hidden, and showed it to the agent. “That machine you and Agent Scully were exposed to the other night was designed to erase and retrieve memories. But its technology can do much more than that. And thanks to what happened to you and me on that highway, I eventually figured out another way to use it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Use it?” Agent Mulder asked curiously, eyeing the device with a nervousness Morris could tell he didn’t want to show. “How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris shrugged. “To make my own life disappear. I’ve done it at least a half dozen times. Let me tell you,” he continued, laughing, “it’s a real bitch getting back to myself when it doesn’t turn out the way I’d like it to. But that hasn’t stopped me from trying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can switch bodies at will with that thing?” the agent shook his head. “How does it work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris shrugged. “I don’t really know. We never know what makes these babies run. I can do a little tinkering, but my job is pretty much just to cover it all up. These little beauties work the same way the machine does: they take your memories. Our men in black have been using something similar for years.” He held up the device. “But this one is special. If its beam is locked onto a single mind while that person is touching someone else, it gets… confused. And it works anywhere. The person who’s holding it… their mind will swap with whomever they’re touching.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I wasn’t touching you back on that road,” Mulder pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The tech recognizes sentient beings it’s interacted with before. Almost like a fingerprint. It’s intelligent, and it evolves. It learns. It remembers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So... why you and me, then?” Mulder asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris shrugged. “Well, I’d been working with the tech for some time. It must have been drawn to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...And me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I couldn’t tell you, Agent Mulder. You were probably collateral damage. Listen, I’m a P.R. guy, not a tech guy. How the hell should I know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth was, Morris still wasn’t exactly sure why the craft had locked onto him and Agent Mulder that evening. But he hadn’t dared question it: he’d looked across the street at Howard and Jeff, at the men in black surrounding the car. He’d looked at the attractive young redhead standing next to him. And he’d calmly, quietly made the decision to accept the gift he’d received.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Mulder asked, “why is it you remember so much? And I remember so little?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris shook his head. “Some of the lives I’ve lived stand out more than others. You get better at it as time passes.” He pointed to Mulder. “You’ve only done it once.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Twice,” he corrected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris nodded. “Well, maybe that’s why you’re starting to remember.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… if you’ve done this before, that must mean you know how to switch us back,” Agent Mulder concluded, looking hopeful. “Right? Is that why you asked us back out here? To help us?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Morris said, lifting an eyebrow. “Not so fast. You don’t think I’m just going to help you out of the goodness of my fluffy little heart, do you? I’m a lot of things, Agent Mulder, but a philanthropist ain’t one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The agent’s hopeful expression dropped, morphing into disappointment. Morris knew he and his partner had very few options at the moment. He had the upper hand right now, and he needed to maintain it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it you want, Fletcher?” he asked through gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is how it’s going to work, G-man,” Morris said. “I’ll switch you and your partner back, but under one condition.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder set his jaw. “Oh? And what’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris narrowed his eyes. He felt his mouth curve into an uncontainable grin. “After it’s done, I want your life back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder’s eyes changed from mere disappointment to anger in an instant. “No deal,” he said darkly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suit yourself,” Morris shrugged. “I’m sure your pretty partner will enjoy being stuck in your body for the rest of her life. Even more so when I tell her you refused to get her out of this situation for</span>
  <em>
    <span> your</span>
  </em>
  <span> own benefit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris kept his eyes on Agent Mulder’s face. It was brief, but he saw a definite expression of guilt dance across it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re pathetic,” Agent Mulder said, his partner’s icy voice dripping with disdain. “You spend your life convincing others that the fantastic doesn’t exist, all the while using these amazing discoveries for your own selfish gain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For her gain, you mean,” Morris retorted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked into the agent’s eyes, eyes that sparkled blue with defiance. He was good at reading people, and even from what little he knew of Fox Mulder, he suspected the man had a bit of a soft spot for his attractive coworker. He’d definitely hit on something, here. And if there was one thing Morris Fletcher valued in his current life it was his unparalleled ability to know exactly how to exploit any given situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s your choice, Agent Mulder. You can agree to the deal, and we go back to the machine and do the switch properly. Agent Scully will have her life back. Or…” he shrugged as he toyed with the device in his hand, “I can always take it back from her myself.” He eyed the agent menacingly. “She’ll never see it coming, I’ll bet. Just like all the others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris watched the expression on the miserable Fed’s beautiful feminine face, going through a wide array of emotions that ranged from anger to helplessness to outrage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder put his hand on his holster. “Or, maybe you’ll give me that little gadget right here and right now.” He drew his weapon and pointed it at Morris.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris narrowed his eyes. He shrugged, knowing he wasn’t in real danger. Agent Mulder was the one with a gun, but Morris was entirely in control of this situation.“Nice try, but this only works with me. I’ve reconfigured it that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder just stared at the device in Morris’s hand. “Why, Fletcher?” he asked. “Why would you want to do this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris didn’t want to get into the details of his divorce, how unfulfilling his work was. How his kids hated him. He just wanted out. And besides, he didn’t owe an explanation to anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glared at the man whose life he coveted. “Why wouldn’t I want it?” he asked. “If you could lead a different life, if you had the chance to be something completely different, wouldn't you take that chance?” He looked at him closely. “Wouldn’t your partner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flickered in his eyes and he was silent, and Morris took that silence to mean that perhaps he thought she would. Agent Mulder looked down at his feet as he slid his gun back into the holster, and Morris could sense his discomfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris was now convinced that Agent Scully was no mere soft spot to Agent Mulder. She was his weak spot. And Morris was going in for the kill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do want to help her, don’t you?” Morris asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Agent Mulder signed in defeat, nodding somberly. “Fine. Just please, whatever you have to do to get her back to the way she was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris grinned with victory. “It’s not so bad being me, you know. From what I hear about you, you’ll probably enjoy a job at Area 51. And Agent Scully will continue living her life, back to normal, none the wiser.” He patted Mulder on the shoulder. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other man's defeated energy quickly ramped up into a seething rage. “If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I will murder you in your sleep, Fletcher.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morris grinned wickedly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Agent Mulder. Besides, she doesn’t want you anyway,” he said, leaning in closely and delivering the final blow into his ear. “Believe me, I tried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>AREA 51</p><p>GROOM LAKE, NEVADA</p><p>WEDNESDAY, 11:16 AM</p><p> </p><p>Scully was approaching Morris Fletcher’s office, hoping she’d given Mulder enough time to get the interview started, when she saw Fletcher himself coming out into the hallway with a smug expression on his face. Mulder followed behind him, looking rather morose.</p><p>“Dana Scully, I presume?” Fletcher said with a winning smile as he shook her hand. She was slightly taken aback.</p><p>“Um… yes,” she answered, surprised he’d bought Mulder’s story so easily. “You know what’s happened to us?”</p><p>“Of course, of course. Just a simple mechanical malfunction but don’t worry, I can get you all straightened out. Follow me,” he said, and brushed past her, headed down the hallway.</p><p>She waited until he was far enough ahead of them to take Mulder by the arm. </p><p>“What’s he so happy about?” she muttered under her breath.</p><p>Mulder shrugged, but didn’t answer.</p><p>“Hey, you okay?” she asked him. “This is great news, right? He can switch us back.”</p><p>“I know, yes,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “You’re right. It’s great.”</p><p>Something felt off, but they weren’t really in a position to have an intimate conversation at the moment. She squeezed his arm and smiled at him, and followed Fletcher.</p><p>Several twists and turns later, they found themselves back in Hangar 19. Machinery whirred around them as they stepped up towards a familiar mechanism, and Fletcher smiled slyly. </p><p>“This look familiar?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. He switched on the machine and it hummed to life. He went behind a monitor and Scully could hear him typing into the keyboard, every <em> clack clack </em> a step closer to getting herself and Mulder back to normal.</p><p>“Are you sure he knows what he’s doing?” Scully whispered into Mulder’s ear, leaning down. “That he’ll push the right button, and not the one that dissolves us both into puddles of primordial ooze?”</p><p>“He won’t,” Mulder said. His certainty seemed to falter, however, as her tripped over his next words. “I promise he won’t.”</p><p>She turned to look at him and for the first time noticed there were tears pooling in his blue eyes as he stared balefully ahead.</p><p>“Mulder?” she asked, concerned. “Something’s wrong, what’s the matter?”</p><p>“Nothing, Scully,” he said gently. “Just trust me. It’s going to be fine.”</p><p>She wanted to believe him, she wanted to trust him, but she knew something wasn’t right. She looked at the machine, watched the bulbs illuminating one by one as it powered up. She saw the ghostly blue lights reflected on Morris Fletcher’s face as he eagerly watched this happen, and although she was not actually Mulder, she felt something stirring deep within and thought maybe, just maybe, she was in possession of his judicious gut after all.</p><p>She stepped over to Fletcher. “What’s going on?” she asked him brusquely. “What did you say to him back there?”</p><p>“Nothing he doesn’t already know,” Fletcher shrugged.</p><p>“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“What’s it like, Dana?” he smirked at the woman he knew resided in her partner’s body. “Being Fox Mulder? Pretty great, isn’t it?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” she asked.</p><p>“You have no idea, do you?” he grinned devilishly at her. “That I used to be him?” He jerked his head in the general direction of Mulder. “I did it better than he did, I’d wager.”</p><p>Scully turned around to face her partner. “Mulder, what is he talking about?”</p><p>Mulder shook his head. “Please, Scully…” He looked so defeated, so upset. She desperately wanted to go through with this, to switch them back, but not if some aspect of it was responsible for that look on his face.</p><p>Fletcher went back to configuring the machine, and Scully stepped over to Mulder. “Tell me, Mulder. Tell me what the hell is going on, or I will not do this.”</p><p>Mulder sighed. “Do you remember anything about our first trip out to Area 51, Scully? Last year? Do you remember when we got stopped on that road?”</p><p>She slowly turned to look at Fletcher and something clicked into place. “That… that was him, wasn’t it?” she asked. “On the road! I thought he looked a little familiar. So he remembered you? He remembered us?”</p><p>“Yes, but there’s more.” Mulder hesitated, and she waited for the whopper that was certainly coming. “This has happened before, Scully. We just don’t remember it happening.”</p><p>Scully blinked. “You mean… we’ve swapped bodies before?”</p><p>Mulder shook his head. “Not me and you,” he explained. “Me and him.” He jerked his head up at Morris Fletcher, who grinned, waving in agreement.</p><p>Scully scoffed. This was too much. “You can’t be serious.”</p><p>Fletcher laughed. “Your reaction doesn’t surprise me at all, Dana. Took you awhile to figure it out the last time, if my patchy memory serves.”</p><p>Scully grabbed her head in her hands, attempting to process all of this.</p><p>“It’s true,” Mulder said, reluctantly. “The other day, Scully, I was looking in a mirror and I had this sort of… déjà vu feeling. It was like a memory of something that had happened, but… I didn’t actually remember it happening.”</p><p>Scully just stared at him, waiting for this to make sense.</p><p>“Then again, at your mother’s house, you remember that? When we almost…” he trailed off and she remembered the kiss that had been interrupted by his odd behavior. She’d wondered if it was just more excuses, more hesitation, more waiting for something that would never happen. But as she looked into his eyes now she saw the truth: he was devastated. Something within him had broken, and she wasn’t sure what, or why.</p><p>“If this is true,” she began slowly, “what does it all mean? And why are you so upset, Mulder?”</p><p>Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t bring himself to say whatever he wanted to get out. </p><p>“Cat got your tongue?” Fletcher called.</p><p>“Shut <em> up </em>,” Scully gritted, spinning to glower at him.</p><p>Fletcher rolled his eyes. “You know, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the future, Dana, so you may as well get used to me.” </p><p>“What is he talking about, Mulder?” she asked, whipping around, pinning him with a hard look. “A lot of time in the future? What does he mean?”</p><p>Fletcher piped up again. “I mean he’s agreed to be me, Dana, so that you can be you again.” </p><p>Mulder closed his mouth, looking ashamed. Scully stared at Mulder in absolute shock. </p><p>“I have to, Scully,” he said quietly. “It’s the only way to set things right.” </p><p>Scully shook her head in utter disbelief. “No,” she said simply. “This isn’t right. It’s not right at all. Why would you agree to this? Why do you think for a second this is what I would want?”</p><p>He reached up and placed his smooth palm against her scratchy cheek. “It’s the only way to give you your life back. If I don’t do it, we’ll be stuck this way forever,” he said desperately. </p><p>She felt like he was holding something back to protect her, and she hated when he did that. He looked so pained, agony etched onto his pale expression. His face reminded her of so many times she’d looked into the mirror in the past, sick from worry over him, helpless and so, so lonely. </p><p>“I have to do this,” he pleaded. “You’ve given me so much. Please let me give you your life back.”</p><p>She wasn’t sure what exactly Mulder had agreed to, what sort of deal had been struck, what was even going on. But from the way he was looking at her, she knew that for him, this was a real goodbye. </p><p>“No, Mulder. Don’t you understand?” she asked him, her eyes brimming with tears. “I won’t have a life. Not one worth living. Not without you.”</p><p>She had to make him understand, she had to. And even though they weren’t themselves right now, at least not in the way she’d always imagined this moment, she reached down to cradle his face in her large hands, breathed “Oh, Mulder…” and pulled his lips up to hers. </p><p>It wasn’t a friendly New Year’s kiss. It was something much, much more. Any unusual sensations she thought she might feel due to their current reversal faded away as her lips moved against his. Her eyes closed and although she knew they didn’t look like themselves right now, it didn’t matter. He was Mulder and she was Scully and there was nothing else around them at all; not the loud humming of the machine nor Morris Fletcher nor anything else. They were together, and no matter what they looked like, there was no way she would consent to leaving him.</p><p>She broke their kiss softly after a few moments and pulled back, looking down at him. She saw Mulder in his eyes. Moving forward would be strange, but they could make it work.</p><p>They could get through anything.</p><p>“I love you,” she said, and it didn’t feel strange. It wasn’t even difficult to say. Of all the times she’d wanted to tell him, she’d wanted him to know, she’d held back out of fear. Maybe there was nothing to fear anymore because they had nothing to lose.</p><p>He blinked, and looked surprised. “You do?”</p><p>The corners of her mouth curved upwards and she let out a soft chuckle. “<em> That </em> you don’t believe, Mulder?”</p><p>He smiled back, relief in his eyes. “Never thought it possible,” he whispered. He pulled her in to kiss her again, his arms wrapping tightly around her large frame as she held him close. He smiled against her mouth and mumbled back. “I love you too, Scully.”</p><p>She was flooded with relief; he loved her, and she loved him, in the way she’d been so afraid to express. It was out now, forever. The mere idea overwhelmed her.</p><p>Mulder smiled, taking her large hands in his small ones, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. For a moment time stood still.</p><p>“Isn’t this sweet,” Fletcher suddenly piped up from across the room with an audible smirk, ruining the moment. “I guess she likes you after all, Fox.” </p><p>Scully turned slightly, glaring over her shoulder. Fletcher shrugged, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny cylindrical device, holding it up to them threateningly.  “Whatever. If you aren’t going to keep up your end of the deal, if you’re going to make this hard, I can just do it the easy way. At least I’ll get my happy ending.”</p><p>It could have been self-defense, or even a reaction to the sadness she’d felt from Mulder; the tears she’d seen and the feeling that something inside him had withered. Perhaps it was finally reaching the moment of truth with her constant and her desire to protect it at all costs. Or maybe it was simply the smug look on Fletcher’s stupid face.</p><p>Whatever it was, Scully snapped. </p><p>She reached back, summoning every bit of Mulder’s bodily strength she could, and punched the man square in the jaw. A loud crack echoed inside the hangar as he flailed, taking a couple of steps back from the impact then falling onto his ass. The device fell out of his hand and rolled behind him. Mulder stepped up behind her, looping his smaller arms around one of her larger ones, pulling her back.</p><p>“Easy,” Fletcher said from the ground, rubbing his jaw. “You’re just as feisty as I remember, aren’t you?”</p><p>“He’s not worth it, Scully,” Mulder said. He looked down at the man with pure disdain.</p><p>She turned to face him again. “Let’s get out of here,” she said with certainty. “Both of us, right now.”</p><p>He shook his head, and the weight of what she was proposing settled over both of them. “Are you sure about this, Scully?” he asked.</p><p>She nodded. “We’ll be fine as long as we’re together.”</p><p>This agreement was its own unique promise. Their future would be strange and complicated and difficult, but they would persevere together as they always had. This strangeness was their own kind of normal. ‘Normal’ was being by Mulder’s side, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.</p><p>They began to back away from Fletcher slowly, but he rolled his jaw around and his eyes narrowed. Leaning over next to the machine, he flipped open a panel and slammed a button with the heel of his hand.</p><p>Alarms blared above them. Mulder grabbed Scully’s wrist.</p><p>“You’ll never get out of here,” Fletcher declared. “And no one will believe your story. You’re gonna find yourself begging for my help.” He waved at them. “Good luck, agents.”</p><p>Doors at either end of the hangar burst open, and men with guns poured inside, weapons at the ready. Fletcher, still on the ground, pointed at Mulder and Scully.</p><p>“Security breach! They attacked me! They’re armed and dangerous!” he yelled. Mulder tugged at Scully’s hand and pulled her towards an unoccupied exit.</p><p>“Scully, <em> run! </em>”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Once more, they fled the hangar with the sounds of gunfire all around them. Only this time they weren’t so lucky.</p><p>Scully clutched at her shoulder, the pain so severe she could feel it in her ears. She’d been shot before, and the sensation wasn’t difficult to remember, but it was far more intense this time. </p><p>Mulder held her tightly by the hand and pulled her into another building situated next to Hangar 19, down long hallways, past locked doors that wouldn’t open without various levels of high-clearance security. She could hear the guards closing in behind them, and the building felt like a maze from which they would never escape. She thought wildly of Mulder deep in the bowels of the Pentagon, searching desperately for a cure for her cancer. She needed his help again, but feared they’d have even less time this go-around.</p><p>Suddenly she collapsed next to him. She could feel blood leaving her body in warm spurts along her shoulder. </p><p>“Scully! Scully, come on!” Mulder crouched down beside her, surveying the damage. “Oh my god…” </p><p>“I-- I can’t, Mulder,” she groaned in agony, unable to get up. </p><p>Spotting a steel door down the corridor and to their left that was slightly ajar, Mulder leaned down and began to attempt to lift her up, all one-hundred-eighty pounds of her.</p><p>“Don’t, Mulder,” she grunted. At her current weight, his efforts would only result in more pain and a complete lack of success. So she summoned all of her energy and slowly stood up, taking his hand and hobbling down the seemingly endless hallway. </p><p>“Stay with me Scully,” he said encouragingly. </p><p>He reached the door and pushed it open. He then closed it behind him as some automatic dim fluorescent lights clicked on, illuminating the room with an white glow. He helped Scully lie down against the wall on the tiled floor and she groaned.</p><p>Mulder crouched down beside her, surveying the damage. “Shit, shit…” He looked around in desperation. The guards were closing in on them; if they weren’t quiet, surely they would be discovered soon. “Scully, Scully can you hear me?” He gently touched her face, trying to get her to open her eyes.</p><p>“My shoulder,” she said, rather unnecessarily. </p><p>He knelt down next to her and unbuttoned her shirt to get a look at her wound. From the look on his face, the fear in his bright blue eyes, it must have been bad.</p><p>“<em>Oh. </em> There’s a lot of blood, Scully… a lot,” he said, and she could see his already pale skin go even paler. He pressed his hands against the gaping wound to stem the bleeding, and she cried out in misery. It hurt so goddamn much she felt like she might black out.</p><p>“I think… I think the bullet is still inside,” she said. “I can feel it. You have to look.”</p><p>“Oh God,” he said. “Uh… okay. Okay.” He sat back on his calves and released her wound to remove his own jacket, rolling up his sleeves. </p><p>“What do you see?”</p><p>“It’s right here, at the surface. I can see it.”</p><p>She groaned. From Mulder’s description, it seemed the bullet was lodged inside her deltoid, and removing it could possibly cause further damage. But it was at the surface, embedded in the soft tissue, fairly low risk. it was probably safe to take it out. In any event it was likely to become infected, and they were trapped. She wasn’t going anywhere with a piece of metal stuck in her shoulder.</p><p>“What do I do, Scully? Tell me,” he said. He sounded almost worse off than she was.</p><p>“I want you to take it out,” she said, sucking in a breath of air between her teeth. “It could become encapsulated. Just do it as quickly as possible.”</p><p>“Oh God,” he moaned. “I can’t do this.”</p><p>“Yes, you can,” she said firmly. “I know you can. It’ll be just like at Quantico, okay?”</p><p>“I nearly puked at Quantico, Scully.”</p><p>He looked down at her, and as she looked up she saw Mulder’s familiar expression of protective guilt, the one he reserved specifically for her, reflected in her own features. There was fear in his eyes she recognized, but even through her misery, she was slightly amused at the way Fox Mulder wore his panic face upon her own. </p><p>She was in no way certain how any of this would go. But one thing she was certain of was that Mulder would do whatever she asked if it would take away her pain.</p><p>“I trust you,” she said simply.</p><p>Mulder closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay. Okay, Scully, I’ll do it.”</p><p>A sharp jolt went through her as if she were being electrocuted. “<em>Jesus</em>,” she moaned. Why did it hurt so much more than it had the last time? Was it because she was currently a man? “No wonder men are such babies,” she managed between gritted teeth. </p><p>Mulder managed a small laugh. “I suppose I deserve that.”</p><p>She pointed at a nearby table. “Hand me that pencil.”</p><p>Mulder grabbed the object in compliance and she placed it between her teeth. Her eyes were watering and her forehead was sweaty. “Just do it,” she said, so close to tears she wanted this to be over as quickly as possible. </p><p>Mulder took another deep breath, and she closed her eyes, and suddenly felt a pain that was beyond description. She bit down on the pencil, hard, and just when she thought she might pass out she heard Mulder saying “...it’s out, it’s out, Scully,” with relief.</p><p>He tossed the bullet aside and wrapped his jacket tightly around her shoulder as a temporary tourniquet. She held it to her wound, her eyes searching the room for something useful.</p><p>“Mulder, check the room for a first aid kit,” she instructed. “There’s got to be one in here somewhere.”</p><p>He obeyed, scanning around until he located one adhered to the wall. He dashed over to get it, pulling out alcohol and gauze.</p><p>“I got it, Scully, hang on,” he said. “I’ve got you.”</p><p>Relieved that he could take it from here, she closed her eyes and let him take care of her, cleaning the wound and wrapping it tightly with a clean strip of gauze. When she was bandaged as best he could, she shivered, and he pulled her into his arms. </p><p>“Hey, Scully,” he said suddenly. “You’ve been shot in nearly the same place you shot me all those years ago. Must be poetic justice.”</p><p>She chuckled lightly, still in incredible pain, but was grateful she could do so.</p><p>“No ‘Shut up, Mulder,’ eh? Must be bad,” he smiled, holding her close.</p><p>She held onto him as they waited as quietly as possible for their inevitable capture. After a couple of minutes it seemed like no one was coming. The room was quiet, there were no more footsteps in the hallways. Things were calm now, and she felt safe here in his arms. She’d never been so grateful to have him by her side.</p><p>“What did he threaten you with, Mulder?” she asked, knowing it must have been awful for Mulder to even consider giving Fletcher his identity permanently.</p><p>He held her close and sighed. “He was going to do it to you, Scully. He had that device… he told me it would switch him with whomever he wanted. He’d have Fox Mulder’s life back, and you’d be stuck in his. The only way to stop him was to agree to let him have mine.”</p><p>She was the only one who got to see it; really see the selflessness Mulder always exhibited on her behalf. They’d both taken the fall for each other on so many occasions this didn’t exactly surprise her, but with the new knowledge that he was in love with her, everything was tinted slightly differently.</p><p>“Thank you, Mulder,” she said softly. “Thanks for taking care of me. And I don’t just mean today.” Her meaning was layered, amplified; it echoed back seven years. He’d always taken care of her.</p><p>He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>They both sat quietly, her head nestled against his blouse. His chest rose and fell softly and she listened to his breathing: familiar sounds she’d still have to find a way to get used to hearing from the outside. He held her large frame close in his small arms, and it was a strange sensation to be held by him like this: the roles were reversed, but they weren’t, not really. She recalled countless times when she’d held him in her own arms, trying desperately to take away his pain: near Mulder’s old summer house in Rhode Island, alone in that cottage, his heartbeat thrumming beneath his shoulder blades. The night they lost the X-Files, standing in the charred basement together with her arms around him. There had been dozens of people in the room but it always felt just like this: just the two of them, always. And in this moment an odd realization came over her: it didn’t really matter that their bodies were different. They were still themselves, still together, still behaving with each other exactly like they would in any circumstance.</p><p>“Mulder?” she asked quietly.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>If this truly was their destiny, if they were going to be stuck this way forever, she had to know his true thoughts on the matter. “What if we really never get out of this?” </p><p>Mulder sighed, then said exactly what she’d been hoping to hear.</p><p>“I’ll love you anyway, Scully.” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She’d almost fallen asleep in his arms when the door burst open and the footsteps of impending doom sounded. They were led back through the hallways like chattel, and Scully clutched at her shoulder in pain, expecting the worst. Certainly they were about to be arrested, detained, fired, all of the things she’d feared from the beginning.</p><p>Mulder reached out to take her hand, however, and it made her feel a little better.</p><p>As they were marched back into Hangar 19, Scully saw a man standing at attention next to the machine several yards away. He looked to be in his sixties: gray hair and a face that was kind, yet had the air of definite authority. From his accoutrements she could discern he was a general. He reminded her of Ahab somewhat, his face etched with the same severity she’d become accustomed to in the past.</p><p>“Fantastic,” she muttered under her breath. They’d really be in trouble now.</p><p>“Agents Mulder, Scully,” the man said politely, however. Scully noticed that Morris Fletcher was standing off to the side between two guards, in handcuffs. He did not look happy.</p><p>“I’m General Wegman. I’d like to apologize for what occurred here a few evenings ago. That was not supposed to happen.”</p><p>Scully took a step towards him and the guards raised their weapons. She immediately stopped, but Wegman held up his arm. “At ease,” he told the guards, who backed off.</p><p>“I put this man in charge of correcting this situation,” Wegman said, pointing at Fletcher. “I now realize that trusting him was a mistake.” The general picked up the small cylindrical device off the floor, and when Fletcher saw it, he turned ghostly white.</p><p>“I wasn’t going to do anything with it,” he chuckled nervously. “Come on, General. You know I wouldn’t mess around with that thing.”</p><p>Wegman turned to face Fletcher, approaching slowly. “I’ve put up with your bullshit for years, Fletcher, but this takes the cake.” He held the device in his hand and turned it over, examining it. </p><p>Morris Fletcher gulped. “How… how did you find out?”</p><p>“How many, Fletcher? How many people have you used this on?”</p><p>Fletcher shook his head helplessly.</p><p> Mulder spoke up. “What…. what’s going on, if I may ask?”</p><p>"Do you know what’s happened to us?” Scully asked.</p><p>Wegman nodded. “Unfortunately, I do,” he answered. “I’ve seen it happen before, although I must admit this isn’t the intended outcome of the process.”</p><p>Scully and Mulder looked at each other, unsure of what was going on.</p><p>“We’re not sure how any of this technology works. It’s developed in Utah, then sent out here. We get it, test it, keep it quiet. That’s our job.” He turned to look at Fletcher. “It seems, however, one of our men has been doing a little extracurricular activity.”</p><p>“What is that thing, exactly?” Scully asked.</p><p>Wegman held it up. “This is a prototype,” he explained. “It was stolen several months ago from my office. It’s incredibly dangerous and was never ever, supposed to be used on an unsuspecting public.” </p><p>“I didn’t do anything to them, General!” Fletcher insisted, his panic building. “I swear!”</p><p>“This man threatened my partner,” Mulder said. “He’s lying.”</p><p>“It’s all right, Agent Mulder,” Wegman said. “I promise, we will handle this.” </p><p>“You can’t just disappear me!” Fletcher argued. “I know things! I know too much!” </p><p>Wegman whipped around to face him. “You aren’t going to know much of anything anymore, not after we’re through with you. And you’d better play ball, Fletcher, or else you’re one step away from pushing a baby carriage of tin cans down the street.” Fletcher’s face drained completely of color. Wegman turned to address his men. “Take him away. I’ll deal with him after I take care of these two.”</p><p>“Wait,” Scully suddenly said. She stepped forward, looking at Fletcher curiously. “I met your wife this morning,” she said, trusting her gut. </p><p>Fletcher’s face contorted in confusion. “Joanne?” he asked, confirming Scully’s suspicions.</p><p>She nodded, a lot of this making sense to her now. “She was right about you after all, I guess. You really can’t change, no matter how much you try.”</p><p>Morris Fletcher’s face darkened. He said nothing, but Scully suspected she’d told him the one thing he hadn’t wanted to hear.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter whose body you’re in, Fletcher. You're still going to be you. Always you. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is…” she searched for words that suddenly came from she knew not where. “Accept who you are. However repulsive that may be.”</p><p>Fletcher’s eyes widened and he began to yell in protest, but the guards led him out of the hangar. After a few moments, Mulder, Scully, and the general were alone.</p><p>“What’s going to happen to him?” Scully asked curiously.</p><p>Wegman shrugged, completely dropping the tough-guy facade. “Exactly what he deserves. He won’t remember any of this. And most importantly, he won’t remember anything about the machine. He’ll never be able to do this to anyone else ever again.”</p><p>Scully exhaled in relief. “Can I ask… why did this happen at all?”</p><p>“I was Agent Mulder’s source,” Wegman revealed. “The first time I invited you out here, you never showed. And I wanted to meet you, I wanted to know what you know about where this technology comes from.” He turned to Mulder eagerly.</p><p>Mulder blinked. “Me? You think I would know?”</p><p>Wegman looked guilty. “I’ve read about you for years, Agent Mulder. You’re actually out there, finding these incredible things. Seeing them with your own eyes. And, well… I wanted to show you the machine.” </p><p>“Show it to me?” Mulder asked incredulously. “You mean use it on me. This thing was set to go off as soon as we were in front of it!”</p><p>Wegman shook his head. “It was never supposed to switch you two like this,” he explained. “I- I just wanted-” he sputtered.</p><p>“You wanted to take his memories,” Scully said, catching on. “Is that it, General?”</p><p>He looked down at Mulder. “I just wanted to know the things you know, Agent Mulder.”</p><p>“You could have just asked,” Mulder pointed out.</p><p>“It’s my fault all of this happened, and I want to set things right.” Wegman stepped up to them, his voice pleading. “Please, let me help you. I can fix this.”</p><p>Scully wanted to believe him, but she’d hit her limit. “Why should we trust you?” she asked. “You didn’t try to help us right after this happened. You didn’t call, you didn’t write. You have no idea what we’ve been through the past few days.”</p><p>“I would have helped,” Wegman insisted. “I would have, but I didn’t realize at the time the machine had switched you like this. Like I said before, this isn’t its intended purpose.”</p><p>“So how do you know for sure you can switch us back?” Mulder asked. </p><p>“I know how the technology works,” Wegman explained. “If the beam attaches to one of your minds while you’re touching each other, it’s the only possible outcome. We’ve tested it extensively. The only thing I can’t guarantee is either of you remembering any of the past few days.”</p><p>Mulder looked at Scully, and their eyes had a silent conversation. This could be their answer, their salvation. But if the switch worked, would they forget everything that had occurred during their swap? Their declarations of love, all of their progress would be gone. Things would be back to normal.</p><p>
  <em> Normal. </em>
</p><p>Scully felt her eyes tearing up, knowing that it was not only possible, but likely, that they would return to the same old Mulder and Scully they’d been before. Still hiding, still avoiding the truth. She wanted to cry at the injustice of it all.</p><p>Mulder sensed what she was feeling and took her hand. He caught her crystalline gaze and she could see he was holding back tears of his own. But he squeezed her hand, their fingers adjusting to intertwine.</p><p>“We’ll be okay, Scully,” he promised. “Remember? We’ll be together.”</p><p>She nodded, knowing he was right as usual, knowing this was the right course in spite of the consequences. </p><p>They both nodded at the general, who led them back over to the machine, which hummed expectantly. Scully was terrified in spite of Wegman’s certainty, but the warmth of Mulder’s hand made her feel safe.</p><p>
  <em> We’ll be together. Whatever happens. </em>
</p><p>The general gave them a tight smile, punching some keys on the machine’s console, then stepped away. “I’m going to have to leave the room, to avoid any possibility of confusion. But it’s set to activate in fifteen seconds. Just stand where you are, hold each other by the hand, and everything will be back to normal.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Scully said. </p><p>“If I never see you again, it was an honor to meet the both of you,” General Wegman said kindly, giving them a little salute. He turned and headed out of the hangar.</p><p>Mulder squeezed Scully’s hand tightly. “You’re sure about this?” he asked her quietly.</p><p>She grinned, tears welling in her eyes. “Beam us up, Scotty.” </p><p>Mulder smiled back and nodded, and they stood hand in hand facing the machine. After a few more moments, the room once again went dark, save for the ghostly blue lights along the machine. It hummed, Mulder squeezed her hand, and as she closed her eyes, everything went white.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>HIGHWAY 375</span>
</p><p>
  <span>GROOM LAKE, NEVADA</span>
</p><p>
  <span>SUNDAY MARCH 12, 2000</span>
</p><p>
  <span>6:32 PM</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rental sedan cruised eastward across the highway, its engine’s roar the only sound cutting through the silence of the desert evening. Dust billowed behind it as it sped towards its destination, which was the Las Vegas airport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, Mulder turned on the headlights as the sun dipped beneath the horizon receding in the rearview. Scully sat next to him in the passenger seat, and he took advantage of the straightaway to steal glances at her, feeling an odd, uneasy sensation throughout his body whenever she would turn her head to catch his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we almost there?” she asked. He nodded, morosely cognizant of yet another failed outing upon which he’d practically forced her to accompany him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Scully,” he said. “I’m sorry for dragging you out here for nothing. Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “I’m used to it,” she said, and smiled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She smiled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thank god. “Anyway, I’m sorry your source never showed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least we got to see those UFOs, right?” he nudged her playfully. “No more ‘I never saw the spaceship, Mulder,’ right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She exhaled loudly. “Fine. They were unidentified, they were objects, and it’s safe to assume they fly. Happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ecstatic,” he grinned, turning back to the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t much more conversation during their journey home. They were both tired and disappointed, but mainly Mulder felt an unwieldy weight that had settled upon them; the weight of things unsaid. He thought it thoroughly ironic that he’d almost mustered up the strength to ask her about their New Year’s kiss on the car ride out here, and come away from it empty handed, exactly like he had once again at Area 51.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they said nothing. In these moments, they typically said nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mulder pulled up to the curb outside Scully’s apartment. The street was still; the only movement was that of the trees softly rustling outside, the streetlights pouring between their leaves like scattered starlight. The air was heavy with the kind of intent and expectation he was quite familiar with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned the engine off, and Scully began to get out. Before she could protest, he popped the trunk and jumped out of the car, pulling out her bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder with an </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve got it </span>
  </em>
  <span>expression. She responded to his gentlemanly gesture with her standard look of exasperation, but allowed him to carry her bag up the stairs and all the way into her apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closed behind him and they were alone in the quiet sanctity of Scully's space. Once again, he felt a strange sensation from his head to his toes, as if something was slightly off. He didn’t feel sick, or tired. He just felt like... he wasn’t quite himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...So,” he began, not really sure what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” She looked up at him. He looked down at her. For some reason his neck hurt doing this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really am sorry for ruining your Sunday, Scully,” he said. She shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop apologizing,” she replied. “I wouldn’t have gone with you if I hadn’t wanted to be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, and they just looked at each other for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, remember, you promised no more talk of UFOs. A bath and some sleep, if I recall correctly,” she grinned. She turned to head back into her bedroom but his own hand shot out to touch her forearm, stopping her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but first… there’s... something else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, actually,” he asked her haltingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him curiously. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god, was he doing this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath. “Well, I was thinking about… that kiss,” he said. He felt his body get warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Her eyes widened, then darted down to his lips, as if she were currently transporting herself back to that moment. They were so close again, so close. He could just lean in. He should just lean in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve just… I’ve been thinking about that night. A lot, actually,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking about that kiss too,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded slowly, her eyes drifting back up his face until they were locked with his. He watched as her tongue did that thing it often did, briefly sliding between her lips then receding into darkness again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pinned him with a look. “What did it mean, exactly, Mulder?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly felt his body go from warm to cold. They were talking about this, actually talking, finally. He’d even brought it up himself but he had no idea what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought... the meaning was pretty clear,” he said stupidly. Of course it hadn’t been clear. Nothing with them was ever clear, with all of their history, their countless false starts and abrupt stops. Deciphering the meaning within their own relationship had become its own special sort of X-File. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was the scariest one of all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t clear,” Scully said. “Everyone kisses on New Year’s Eve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d hoped it had meant to her what it meant to him… the possibility of a new beginning. It had never really occurred to him that the reason they’d been moving so slowly ever since was that his meaning might have been entirely misunderstood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gazed at her, taking in the way her delicate jawline swept down in tandem with the curve of her hair. The tiny freckles that dotted her nose, which somehow he knew were there, hidden beneath her makeup. Eyes that had once frustrated him in their defiance, but had long since gained the ability to melt him with a simple glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Words had always failed him when it came to declarations and Scully. The only time he’d been somewhat articulate was after the Bermuda Triangle incident, when he’d been under the influence of drugs, and while that should have been some sort of hint to him, some indication he needed to figure this mystery out sooner rather than later, the moment had passed them by like so many others over the years. It had become lost in the myriad of emotions that clouded their every interaction, even though it was the primary emotion he’d felt for her since before he even knew how to identify it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind went blank, and although he knew now was the time to make himself clear, he could not find the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Fox Mulder leaned in instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned towards her with intent and purpose, and as his hand reached to cup her cheek he saw a kind of desperate relief in her eyes that this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was indeed the meaning she had hoped for. Her eyes closed and their lips met and both of them sunk into the kiss, deeply, passionately. His tongue made an appearance that sent “friendly New Year’s Eve kiss” off into oblivion, never to return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moaned softly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Mulder</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” as her own tongue touched his, and the sound was so erotic he felt it down in his groin. And just as immediately he received a strange jolt that was not simply arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Mulder...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He broke the kiss and pulled back quickly, looking at her in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you feel that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t even sure what he meant, what he’d felt, what he wanted her to have felt. But whatever it was was powerful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it was… just a strange feeling, like... we’d done this before. Just like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled. “I think I’d remember.” She looked at him a bit shyly, expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, still reeling from the peculiar sensation. “I don’t mean to make this weird. It’s just so strange.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her expression turned to confusion and even slight embarrassment, and she was certainly frustrated, probably because, once again, his wacky paranormal shit was taking precedence over what was happening between them emotionally. He didn’t want to stop kissing her, he didn’t want to give the impression that he ever wanted to stop kissing her, but his entire body was thrumming with an inexplicable and unsettling feeling of displacement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mulder,” she said suddenly. Her voice had changed slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If… if this was a mistake, if you want to pretend like it didn’t happen, and just go back to the way things were before, you can tell me. I won’t be upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her, horrified. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it at all, Scully.” He took her hands in his and looked at her with all of the earnestness he felt. “I want this with you more than anything. I’ve wanted it for a really long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at him. “...But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head again. His mind felt like it was in a hundred different places at once. He needed to understand why he was feeling this way; he was frustrated and annoyed that their moment had finally arrived and for some reason he couldn’t simply enjoy it. The kiss had triggered something in his brain, a memory he couldn’t shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scully let go of his hands and sighed, turning to walk over to the kitchen, clearly frustrated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully,” Mulder said. “Forget I said anything, okay? I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took off her jacket and hung it up. “I understand, Mulder,” she sighed. “It’s all too weird. I’ve worried for years something like this might happen.” She pressed the play button on her answering machine, which was blinking. “Maybe it’s why we’ve both put it off for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not weird!” Mulder insisted. “Scully, listen to me. I’m trying to explain-- something must have happened to us out at Area 51, something--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped, because her machine was now playing what sounded like a message from himself. But what he was saying was beyond belief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mulder? Mulder, it’s me,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” came Scully’s familiar greeting. But it was in the sound of his own voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was something Scully would say coming out in his voice?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at him, clearly taken aback as well, and replayed the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mulder? Mulder, it’s me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Images flashed through his brain like a zoetrope, one after the other, creating a series of events almost too incredible for even him to believe. But then, very suddenly, he remembered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered holding Scully’s hand, and a bright white light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered a strappy black dress and a tuxedo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered a man with a sneaky grin and an ulterior motive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But mostly, he remembered looking into a mirror and seeing not his own reflection, but Scully’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scully looked up at him in utter confusion. But for Mulder, everything he’d been feeling suddenly clicked into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully, tell me what you remember from Area 51, will you? Humor me. Anything at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him oddly. “Well... we found that room full of machinery, then… then your source never showed. They escorted us off the property.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mulder shook his head. “Something else happened. But I’m afraid if I tell you, you won’t believe me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe what?” she said impatiently. “Mulder, why did you leave that message on my machine? Is this some kind of joke?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Scully, I didn’t leave that message,” he said, looking at her pointedly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> left that message.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. “What are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span> about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was utterly convinced of what had happened to them, but none of it mattered if she was unable to remember. She’d dismiss him as crazy, like usual, and everything that had happened since he walked into her apartment would be dismissed as crazy as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you should go,” she said. She turned and walked over towards the bathroom but he followed her inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to remember,” he said, pleading with her. “Please, Scully, remember!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re scaring me,” she said. She shook her head, flustered, and tried to leave the bathroom but before she reached the door, he slammed it shut, trapping her between himself and the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mulder, stop it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to scare her but he had to make her understand. He couldn’t leave things like this. Otherwise they’d go back to work tomorrow and pretend none of this had happened at all. He couldn’t allow that. They’d come too far now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to see,” he said, and he took her hand, walking her over to the bathroom mirror until they were both looking into it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kicking over a sturdy-looking wastebasket, he helped her step up onto it, moving in front of her, taking both of her hands with his and wrapping them around his neck, resting them along his collar. She had the trademark look on her face of typical indulgence, but he could tell she wasn’t buying any of this. He needed to get her there, and fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, Scully,” he whispered. He covered her tiny hands in his own and began going through the motions of tying a bowtie: over, under, around. He didn’t tell her what he was doing; he simply looked at her reflection directly in the eyes; watching her confusion turn to contemplation, then consternation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then revelation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mulder…?” she breathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Words often failed them in these types of situations, but when they did, their eyes always did the talking. Her eyes locked onto his in the mirror, and in an instant he knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was remembering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping down off the wastebasket, she moved in front of him and looked at her own face in the mirror, then to his, then back to hers again. She turned slowly to look up at his real face, somehow comprehending. She touched her own left shoulder thoughtfully, then her hands went to his chest and she trailed her fingers along his body, down to his stomach. She gripped his jacket and pulled it down over his shoulders, sliding it off. It fell to the floor, the silent swish and thud the only sound in the quiet bathroom, and she peered at the side of his upper arm, his left side, the same place he’d just touched her. And as she swiftly untied his tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, then pulled it down over his shoulder, he knew exactly what she was looking for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing here,” she whispered, softly dragging her fingertips along his skin, circling his years-old scar. “Why was I expecting to find a gunshot wound, Mulder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… I got shot,” he said. “I mean, you did.” It was as if his mind was feeding him information that he had access to but couldn’t quite understand. “You remember now, Scully? You got shot, but… you weren’t you. You were me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember,” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Yes,” he encouraged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was suddenly acutely aware of the way they were standing. Their faces were mere inches from one another, he had her practically pinned against the sink, and her hands were touching him so intimately; one pressed against his half-bared chest, the other curled around his bicep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is this possible?” she breathed, running her hands up along his shoulders and back down across his chest, exploring every detail until she was clinging to his neck. Remembering. “How is it possible that I remember this, remember being you? Being inside you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” he said softly, closing his eyes, letting her touch him. “I don’t know, but it’s real, Scully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that kiss…” she asked, not daring to presume but somehow knowing the truth. “We’d… kissed like that… before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Not quite like that, I suppose,” he said. “I like it much better when you’re you and I’m me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gazed up at him, and in her eyes he saw so many things, but primarily he saw hope. Hope that they could shed all of this pretense, and not add this moment to their long list of disappointments. They’d disappointed each other so many times in the past; he was so exhausted, so tired of putting off telling her how he felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now was the moment, he convinced himself. Now was the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now was the only time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Scully,” he sputtered, and he heard her inhale sharply. She blinked a couple of times and physically recoiled, almost as if he’d slapped her. She hadn’t expected this. Maybe she didn’t believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said again, “and I’m not letting you off the hook this time. I’m not letting you shrug this off, or act like it didn’t happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was still, and remarkably serene as she stared up at him. “You do?” she asked in a small voice. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do, Scully,” he said, his voice thick with relief. Whatever happened, however she felt, he’d done it, he’d told her his truth. He’d never felt so powerful in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, and he felt braver now than he’d felt in years. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, resting his palm on her cheek. She covered his hand with her own, leaning into his touch, her eyes closing in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me,” she said quietly to herself, and he chuckled at the notion that Scully would have to convince herself of the validity of his words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than anything,” he continued. Once he’d said it, the rest felt easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything, huh?” she smiled. “More than UFOs, even?” He felt a flood of relief for the first time that this might actually go his way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not even a contest, Scully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, bigger now, and he felt dizzy, as if he might actually topple over and plummet into the depths of her blue irises. Her chest began to expand as her breathing picked up. He knew what was happening to her right now; exactly what she was feeling, the precise sensations. He knew because he’d felt them once as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tension was too much, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned in with an aching compulsion to cover her mouth with his, and she clung to his neck tightly, kissing him hungrily, her fingers combing through the hair at his nape. He pressed her backwards into the sink, hard, but she pulled him against her even harder until his body was flush against her own, his burgeoning desire embedded in her stomach. Her hands slid down his back, then underneath his shirt, untucking it, until they were everywhere, chasing every surface she could touch, as if she were formulating a blueprint of his body in her mind. As if accessing her own memories of what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mulder...” she moaned, and the sound of her voice saying his name this way made him so hard it was painful. His legs went weak just as hers did and they both slid down to the tiled floor, unable to take their hands off each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” He stopped kissing her long enough to ask the question which she quickly quashed beyond any doubt by silencing him, biting his lip with voracious want. Her hands moved to his face, tracing his jawline, and they kissed fiercely; finally, the imaginary boundary they’d both been respecting completely gone. She pushed him back down onto the floor, practically feral in her desire, and he wanted to laugh at how easy this had been; how all he’d had to do was tell her the truth. In all of his years of searching, the one truth he’d been more certain of than any other had been right in front of him the entire time, and he’d finally stopped running from it. While it had taken forever to happen, here and now it felt like a gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scully was on top of him, her thighs locked around his hips. She tugged at his shirt, trying to take it off, and ultimately ripping the last few buttons in her hurry. He sat up, sliding the shirt off and she tossed it aside. Then she sat back, unbuttoning her own blouse so quickly he was barely processing any of it. She removed it as well, tossed it away, then leaned down close to his face. Her necklace tickled his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Mulder,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. He wasn’t sure he could reply if he tried, so he only met her gaze. “Thanks for making your meaning a little more clear. I appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” he replied, somehow finding words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bent down to kiss him again, and as she did so she reached out to press down on his shoulder. He felt a dull pain and flinched slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaced as well, recoiling, grabbing her own shoulder in response. They looked at each other with shared recollection paired with confusion. “Does yours... hurt?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at his shoulder and saw nothing; the same nothing she’d seen. No wound, no sign there ever was one. Just the feeling and, inexplicably, a memory they shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s weird. It hurts a little but… I don’t understand,” he said. “Did it happen, or didn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bent down to kiss him again, but he kept talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… it happened,” he posited as she peppered his mouth with kisses, “and then… it didn’t. It un-happened. If that makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scully nodded. “Mulder?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and kiss me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He obliged, moving his hands to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her silky tresses. Their kisses bruised and seared; she moaned and her body undulated above his, one knee tucked between his thighs as she grinded against his raging erection. He felt her hand drop down to touch it through his pants, which were painfully tight. He could feel the warmth of her palm through the fabric as she explored him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deftly undoing the button and zipper, she slid inside desperately, as if she could hardly wait to get her hand around him, and he grunted with pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you’d be big,” she said unexpectedly, and he wanted to laugh but Scully commenting on his size was making him so hard he worried he’d come all over her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded slowly. “I remember.” He felt her fingers closing around him as her eyes shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked dumbly, all coherent speech leaving him. Scully looked calm and relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t help myself, Mulder. I wanted you, and I couldn’t have you, but then… I could have you. Kind of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hardly believe what she was saying. He’d tried so hard to respect her boundaries while she’d clearly given in. The idea of Scully stroking his cock while essentially wearing it was almost too much to process. His eyes rolled back as she pumped her hand along his length, slowly, as if rediscovering it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sculleee</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” he whimpered, his eyes closing. He reached behind her to cup her ass with both hands, kneading her flesh, still in disbelief that any of this was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly remembered something else from their adventure, and he couldn’t quite account for how or why he did, but his eyes dropped down to her navel, which was directly in front of him, giving him a clear view of the tiny golden ring he’d suspected would be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned down. “I want you so badly, Mulder,” she rasped into his ear. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time.” With her words, he could feel even more blood rushing to exactly where she was holding him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, she released him and sat up. The golden cross pendant at her throat flickered as she reached around her back, undoing her bra and revealing herself to him, her perfect breasts heaving and glistening with sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” was all he could say. His eyes bulged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took his hands in hers and guided them up to her breasts. As his palms made contact it sparked another memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s in the shower, he’s lathering up. He can feel her tiny pink buds pebbling beneath his fingertips and, oh… stop it…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d pictured their first time making love on thousands of occasions but never once had he imagined knowing her body as intimately as his mind already did, thanks to their hazily-recalled Freaky Friday experience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up with a single finger, tracing the outline of her breast, and while he was an active participant, his mind somehow knew what to do before he’d even made the decision. He circled her nipple with his thumb lightly, just barely, and watched her eyes close as she reacted to his touch. Knowing he could do this to her gave him a sense of potency he’d rarely before experienced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scully, you’re beautiful.” His guilt from before didn’t matter now. She was his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up, cradling her in his lap, and drew a pert nipple into his mouth. She gasped and clung to the back of his neck as he sucked, like a hummingbird seeking nectar. He could feel the beads of sweat gathering on her chest against his nose as he enjoyed the taste of her, the feel of her, the sound of her, the sight of her, every one of his senses aflame with a raw elemental fervor that was indescribable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was panting now, adjusting her body so that her head was next to his. The sounds of her frantic, aroused breathing in his ear were almost too much. She was fully sitting on his engorged cock and he wanted to be inside her so badly he could scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing his discomfort, she gently pushed against his chest, indicating for him to scoot back a bit until he was sitting upright against her bathtub. She began to hike her skirt up, slowly. He saw a hint of what looked like cream-colored panties peeking out beneath it. She lifted her legs, first one, then the other, sliding them off, but leaving her skirt around her waist. She then slid his pants down, and he lifted his butt to help her out, kicking them away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was now nothing but a thin layer of fabric separating them, and she gently sat back down onto him, their sexes hot against each other, vibrating with only expectation, only the inevitable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mulder.” His head jerked up until he was looking her right in the eyes, and she cradled his face in her hands. “Is this really happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” he said, because as much as he knew this was real it all felt far too dreamlike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I keep wondering if this will become just another faded memory when it’s over,” she said softly. “Nothing ever happens for us the way it’s supposed to. Nothing ever has.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right, and he realized that was probably why this felt like such a dream. Things never happened for them the way he’d imagined, or thought they deserved. But this was happening right now, and it was the most real he’d ever felt. He was living his truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tear was forming in her eye, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss it away, to make her feel safe and comfortable and… normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said gently, wiping it away with his thumb. “Everything is going to be fine. Better than fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be so sure?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked worried, and he knew why. He thought of them in the car, headed out to Dreamland a year ago; her dreams of settling down with kids and a dog and a white picket fence deferred, in favor of chasing monsters in the dark with him. He knew why because of something he remembered Margaret Scully whispering to him as they left her house one un-happened evening, thinking he was her daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You see? He can do normal. He’ll do it for you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Scully, his one in five billion, his constant, his touchstone, and knew there was only one answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I promise, Scully,” he said. “I promise to do this your way, the right way.” He rubbed his thumb against her cheek. “I promise we will stop and get out of the car this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and leaned in, their foreheads nuzzling. His hands slid down her naked back until they rested at the base of her spine. They belonged to each other now, in every sense of the word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Mulder,” she said, and it was music to his ears. “I always have. I’m so glad I can finally show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “You’ve shown me a thousand times already, Scully,” he said. “I meant it when I said you owe me nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if I recall correctly, you do owe me a bath,” she reminded him with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.” He glanced behind him. “How about a compromise: sex against the bathtub?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s acceptable,” she grinned, and before he knew it he was inside her, inside Scully, not as part of some insane X-File but properly, perfectly. Her warmth surrounded him; he couldn’t even feel the cold chill of the tile anymore. His neck pressed against the lip of the tub as she rocked against him, and it hurt a bit but it was heavenly, ecstasy, not only knowing the truth of her love but experiencing it, feeling it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She locked her knees around him and as they moved she kissed him tenderly, running her fingers along his shoulders, and he did the same, tracing the contours of her back. Each touch, each sensation felt so completely right, a series of variables approaching an event horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was about to explode, and while he wanted to make this last forever he decided to focus on a singular, more attainable goal: making sure Scully was satisfied. He didn’t have to do much of anything, however; just as this thought entered his mind, she broke their kiss and leaned back, keening his name as she climaxed. Sweat dripped into her clavicle and he let himself go as well, squeezing the flesh of her ass as he came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell against his chest, panting, as they both floated back down to earth. He held her close, listening to their breathing, and never in his life had he felt so lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mulder?” she asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you stay the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t see them from his vantage point in the bathroom mirror, but he saw them in his mind’s eye: one body, fused together, hearts and minds and souls intertwined. The memory of their experience might fade slowly with time, as the nature of memory dictated. But the reality of this, of now, would persist well into their future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned against her, so happy, so relieved. Planting a kiss on the crown of her head, he made good on his promise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I stay forever?”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>THE END</b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! All feedback is welcomed and appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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